


Faith, Love, and Sin

by deansdirtybb



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blasphemy, Bottom Dean, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Delinquent Sam, Hand Jobs, Hurt Sam Winchester, Latin Kink, M/M, Oral Sex, Priest Dean, Priest Kink, Supernatural and J2 Big Bang Challenge 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:40:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 48,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deansdirtybb/pseuds/deansdirtybb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary</b>:    The fire that killed Mary Winchester changed their lives forever.  Unable to handle raising his young sons, John tells Dean that Sammy died and gives the baby to family.  Dean is raised by Pastor John and enters the priesthood.  When Sam acts out so badly he runs out of family he is left to the care of Father Winchester and Pastor Jim at their reform school.  There’s an undeniable spark between Sam and Dean…and then they discover they are brothers.</p><p><b>Art Masterpost</b>:  milly_gal has given me some gorgeous art.  Please go check it out and leave her tons of love!  Thanks for everything, sugar – it has been awesome to work with you!<br/>http://milly-gal.livejournal.com/218338.html</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

** Prologue **

A heart-stopping shriek ripped John from the sleep that had claimed him in front of the TV.  Before he could decide if the sound that followed was a roar or a crash, he was halfway up the stairs, adrenaline and instinct propelling him towards the love of his life and his children.  He threw open the door to Sam’s nursery but found only his baby smiling in his crib and reached out to stroke his tiny round cheek.  A wet drop hit his finger, followed by a second and third and John looked to the ceiling for the source.

 

The stupor of sleep was quickly replaced with wide-eyed disbelief at the horror he found.  Mary, skin gone blue-grey and stomach ripped open.  Her face was frozen in terror, mouth open in a silent scream and eyes unblinking.  His legs gave out from beneath him and he fell to the floor calling her name.  Flames erupted around her; he raised his arm to shield his face from the incredible heat.

 

Shaken from the shock by the pained and scared cries of his baby and the basic drive of a father to protect his child, John stood and reached into the crib to grab Sam.  He found his older son in the hallway and handed the blanketed bundle to the four-year-old.  Drawing on his experience in the marines he filled his voice with authority as he commanded Dean, “Take your brother outside as fast as you can.  And don’t look back.  Now, Dean, go!”

 

John watched his four-year-old carry his infant down the stairs toward safety and then ran back to the nursery for his wife.  He returned just in time to see the flames completely engulf Mary’s body on the ceiling and then the room erupted, the force and heat pushing him out of the room.  He ran outside after his sons, scooping them up and running from the house as the windows exploded behind them.

 

The three surviving Winchesters huddled on the hood of a black 1967 Chevy Impala as the firefighters worked to douse the flames.  John pulled Dean in tighter and dropped a kiss to Sammy’s forehead as his brain fought to process what had happened.

*        *        *        *        *

John didn’t have any family to speak of outside his two sons.  Mary’s family tried to help, calling with offers of money or a temporary place to stay.  John refused any assistance, both out of pride and because every time he talked to any of Mary’s blood, it only ripped the wound in his heart wide open all over again.

 

He got a motel room instead and headed to the grocery store to get food for the boys in a daze.  When he walked past the beer cooler on his way to the register he grabbed a six pack.  Later that night he drained his third bottle as he watched Dean wrap his little body protectively around Sam to sleep.

 

The next day he stopped at the liquor store for a bottle of Jack.  

 

The following days were a haze of pain, confusion, and fumbled attempts to care for Sam and Dean.  When John could no longer take the agony, bottles of whiskey filed the rough edges off.  The only decision John was able to make was that he wanted, _needed_ , revenge.  An odd FBI agent had been asking John strange questions about his wife’s death and when John pried, he came clean that he wasn’t actually FBI, he hunted things that most people thought were only nightmares.  He refused to put John on the same path, saying John had two young children to worry about.  John packed those two boys into the Impala along with their meager belongings and started chasing leads.

 

Digging into the research was as painful as reliving Mary’s death every day, each detail driving home the fact that his soul mate was dead and the horror of the way in which she had died.  John began to spend as much time drunk as sober.  He handed bottles of formula to Dean to feed his baby brother, as John emptied bottles of his own.

 

Two weeks after the fire, John woke from a black-out, a puddle of his own drool under his chin on the table.  As soon as the fog lifted from his brain enough to process any thoughts, he jumped from his chair.  Shame and panic raced through his veins as he searched the dim room for his sons.  He found them tucked into Dean’s bed, Dean’s thumb in Sammy’s mouth, and a glance at the clock told him the last time he was sober enough to be aware of time or his children was more than nine hours ago.  Sam must have been hungry…and crying.  Dean could feed Sam his bottle, but he couldn’t prepare it, and apparently he had offered the only pacifier available to him.

 

John cursed himself as he mixed formula and heated it.  There was no way he could care for an infant this way.  John picked up his phone and called Mary’s nearest relative, a cousin who lived just three hours away.

*        *        *        *        *

John let Dean sleep in the car while he carried the baby in and handed him off.  That night he started telling Dean the lie that would need to become the true history for his oldest:  Baby Sam had died in the fire with his mother.  Dean argued the first time, he knew it wasn’t true, he had fed Sammy and helped him sleep.  Daddy had handed him the baby and it was his job to get him to safety.  John told Dean that that had only been a dream; John was never able to get Sam out of the nursery, it was already full of flames by the time he got there.  Dean shook his head, small fists rubbing at his eyes. “No!” he screamed and ran into the bathroom slamming the door behind him.

 

The last piece of John’s heart large enough to hold an emotion shattered as he listened to his son sob through the bathroom door.  Once the crying stopped, John picked the lock on the bathroom door and found Dean asleep on the floor.  He cradled the young boy in his arms and carried him to bed, wondering to himself if he could ever make up for the lie he’d just forced on his son.

*        *        *        *        *

John found his way into the hunting community easily enough.  Though some worried about Dean’s well-being, most recognized and understood the broken look of need in John’s eyes.  He chased lead after lead in a zigzag across the country.  Along the way he helped other hunters with a few cases and it was one of these cases, along with a promising lead in Mary’s death, that brought him to the church in Blue Earth, Minnesota, and to Pastor Jim Murphy.  

 

Pastor Jim was a kind-faced old man, whose eyes told a story of having borne witness to more things than his bible could explain.  He had been helping hunters for years, and rumor had it the holy man had a bit of a psychic gift that had been known to help when a hunter came up against a wall.  He’d had his own painful introduction to the world of the supernatural, but no one really talked about the details beyond the man having experienced a loss so horrifying lesser men would not have survived it.  Despite this, he maintained his spirituality and collar, running a church that would turn no man away.

 

John took an instant liking to the cleric, a rarity these days with his heart so closed off, but Pastor Jim was so good with Dean.  The boy hadn’t spoken since the night John told him his Sammy had died with Mommy.  Jim didn’t force anything on Dean, just quietly let him sit at the table to color and talked to him gently.  Dean may not have responded, but he didn’t run away, and the day John saw his son make eye contact again it was with Pastor Jim’s kind brown eyes.  Pastor Jim smiled at the young boy and Dean’s hand reached out to touch his face so gently Jim couldn’t have even felt the contact.

 

That night, with Dean already tucked into a bed and sleeping soundly, Jim went to John with an offer he was afraid might bring him a sound punch to the jaw from the increasingly unpredictable Winchester.

 

“Let me watch him for you, John.”  John looked up from the ancient text he was gathering notes from but didn’t say a word.  Jim sighed.  “I know you want to keep him with you, so you can keep him safe…but, John, you know a hunt is no place for a four-year-old.  I can keep him here, on sacred ground, under my care.  Safe.”  At John’s raised eyebrow he added, “Just until you’re done with this hunt.  Kill the thing that killed your Mary and your baby, then come back for your son.  Come back when you’re ready to give him the stable life I know you want him to have.”

 

John didn’t say anything for several minutes but finally his heavy head moved in a slow nod.  “Alright.  But just until I avenge Mary.  Then I’ll be back for my son.”

 

“Of course.”

*        *        *        *        *

John stared down into his son’s big green eyes that were expressing everything his small voice wasn’t.  “I’m sorry, Dean, I know you want to come with me, but it’s not safe.  Pastor Jim is a good man.  You like him don’t you?”  Dean only answered with a near imperceptible nod.  “That’s right, and he’s going to take really good care of you, Son.  Keep you safe until I get back.”  Dean’s small brow wrinkled into a frown.  “I’ll be back, I promise.  Just need to take care of something first.”  

 

John patted him on the head and ruffled his blonde hair.  He turned to go but was stopped by small arms encircling his legs, Dean’s face buried in the denim of John’s jeans.  John pried the clinging hands away and knelt in front of his son.  His big hands wrapped around Dean’s arms and chest as he looked into his eyes.  “I’ll be back, Son.  Daddy always keeps a promise, right?”  Dean nodded, but the fear stayed in the mossy depths of his eyes.  John kissed his forehead and then Dean watched his father get in the Impala and drive away.

 

[ Chapter 1 ](http://deansdirtybb.livejournal.com/16542.html)


	2. Prologue

** Chapter 1 **   
  
“Audi nos!”  At Father Winchester’s final shouted words, black smoke poured from the mouth of the man in the devil’s trap and flew out the broken pane of the window.  Caleb stepped through the markings on the floor to untie the man’s wrists.   
  
  
“Thanks, Padre.  This was a tough one, couldn’ta done it without your help.”   
  
  
“Don’t mention it.  ‘Swhat I’m here for.”  Dean always downplayed it, but he had become known for his exorcisms throughout the entire hunting community.  Hunters came to him when they had a particularly stubborn demon or other evil spirit to banish, and he’d saved people no one believed could be freed from the demon tied to their bodies.  He would sometimes travel to homes terrorized by the most stubborn of poltergeists to perform blessings that would let trembling families feel comfortable once again when tucking their children in at night.   
  
  
“No need to play modest, Father Winchester.  No one else in the country could have pulled off exorcising a demon of this level and kept the meat suit alive.”   
  
  
Dean cringed at the formal moniker as well as at the dismissive descriptor of the possession victim sitting in the chair before them; he also wasn’t too comfortable with the open praise of his special set of skills.  It was the saving lives and helping people that lead him to this, and not the need for recognition.  He gave a small nod to Caleb in answer to the compliment and then turned to leave the abandoned house.     
  
  
Caleb’s voice stopped him at the door.  “Give my best to Pastor Jim.  And if you two ever need anything, you know you can count on me.”   
  
  
“Of course.  Take care, Caleb.  Don’t get yourself killed out there.”     
  
  
Dean stepped through the door and walked to the Impala.  He smiled as he ran his hand over her shiny black flank.  The car had been a gift from his father on his 17th birthday.  It had come with the suggestion that Dean join John on the hunt for the thing that killed his mother and brother.  If it had come a year earlier, Dean might have been tempted, but by 17, Dean was already embedded in the seminary, a decision John never fully understood.   
  
  
Dean sighed as he opened the door to the Impala and settled behind the wheel, remembering the look of John’s disappointment when Dean turned him down.  John would always be his father, but it had been Pastor Jim that raised Dean.  Jim’s church was as much home to Dean as the pastor’s house, and young Dean had spent hours combing through the rare books in the library hidden underneath the old stone building.   
  
  
The Impala roared to life as Dean turned the key, and he smiled to himself as he remembered how excited he was the first time he’d started her up.  As was too often the case when Dean was tired or stressed, the smile drifted away as the memory of the rumbling engine carrying John away from a four-year-old Dean floated to the surface.   
  
  
There wasn’t a lot from that time in his life that Dean could remember very clearly.  He’d only been four, after all, and it was more trauma than most adults saw in their life, packed into a few weeks that had overwhelmed his tiny brain and heart.  He did remember standing on Pastor Jim’s porch clinging to John, begging with his limbs the way he couldn’t with the words he’d lost.  John had left anyway, promising to return for Dean in a few weeks after he caught the thing that had killed Mom and Sammy.     
  
  
John had come back in just over a month.  He still hadn’t caught the monster, but he was “getting closer.”  Those words and “Won’t be much longer now, son,” became the mantra John would repeat every time he saw Dean.  And every time he left, he would repeat the same, “I’ll be back, Dean, I promise.”  True to his word, John always came back, sometimes in weeks, usually in months, and at one point in just under a year, but in the end, he would always leave Dean alone on that porch as he pulled away in the rumbling classic Chevy.   
  
  
Dean pulled the Impala onto the road and pointed it back towards the home he still shared with Pastor Jim.  He shook off the maelstrom of disappointment, anger and rejection that always rose in his gut when he thought about how John had left him behind.  Dean took some deep breaths and thought of the kind face of Pastor Jim who had been more of a father to Dean than John had ever been.   
  
  
Jim had always been patient with young Dean.  Even though it was nearly a full year after his arrival at Jim’s before Dean had spoken, Jim had just allowed the boy to move quietly through the house.  He would talk to Dean, but he never pushed for an answer.  It was that quiet acceptance and simply allowing Dean the space to heal that had helped him to find his voice again.  Not long after he started speaking to Jim, he began going to the pastor’s Sunday services.  It was a small congregation and Dean settled into a pew in the front row where he could easily see Jim.  He was too small to really understand any of the lessons, but he loved listening to Pastor Jim.   
  
  
As Dean grew up, he wanted to be more and more involved in the church.  He developed relationships with the members and friendships with the few other kids that were around; the adults all held a special place in their hearts for the nearly-orphaned boy.  He learned to read from the collection of texts full of religion and lore.  As soon as he had mastered reading English, he’d begged Jim to teach him Latin, and he picked it up so easily that before long there wasn’t a book in the church library that Dean hadn’t read cover to cover at least once.  Once John learned of Dean’s new interest, he started bringing Dean books each time he returned; Dean kept those volumes on a special shelf in his room.   
  
  
By his early teens, Dean was leading the Sunday school lessons for the young children, and all the parents remarked at how good he was with little kids.  Dean beamed at the praise, but what he seemed to get most excited about was when Jim let him help with the hunters that came around regularly looking for Pastor Jim’s assistance.  Dean always seemed to be able to track down the perfect obscure reference or incantation to expel a spirit.   
  
  
When Dean entered high school, he began expressing interest in following Pastor Jim’s footsteps, and by his sophomore year, he had asked to enroll in the Catholic seminary nearby.  Jim was at first taken aback that Dean would want to join that particular branch of religion with its strict vows for priests, but Dean insisted the Catholics had the longest history battling demons and the most useful exorcisms.  Dean felt sure that he could best help people by donning a collar, and if it meant he had to take certain vows, so be it.  Whether Dean followed the letter of the law or the spirit of it was a whole different matter.  He kept to his vows as much as he deemed necessary to keep him in line with God’s word so as to be of maximum assistance to those around him.  There was always confession for any dalliances if he got carried away.   
  
  
John put up a bigger fight than Jim against Dean’s chosen path, insisting that the best way for Dean to help the hunting world was for him to join his father on the road and actually _hunt_ the evil things down.  Dean was proud that his father felt he would make a good hunting partner, but he felt little tie to the man who had dropped in and out of his life with decreasing frequency over the years.     
  
  
Instead, Dean picked up extra classes and did summer school to graduate high school early, and he entered the seminary a month later.  John had begrudgingly attended his ceremony at seminary graduation where he received his first collar, but it was Jim who beamed at him from the front row, clapping loudest of anyone in the auditorium.   
  
  
Dean stayed on at Pastor Jim’s, helping with some Sunday masses but mostly focusing on other duties.  Jim had started a school for troubled boys while Dean was at seminary, and Dean took over many of the teaching duties upon his return.  He had a way with the kids that came from understanding and experience most couldn’t pull off.  The other role that brought the new Father Winchester his greatest joy was his renewed work with the hunters who sought assistance from Pastor Jim.  It wasn’t long before his reputation grew among the hunting community and people came to Blue Earth seeking assistance from Father Winchester himself.   
  
  
Pastor Jim had encouraged Dean to move out and find his own home, but Dean insisted on staying.  With Jim’s help, and time put in by boys from the school working off their penance, Dean had built an apartment in the basement of the church, surrounded by all the tomes he’d come to know inside and out.  It was a modest place, but Dean didn’t need much:  a bathroom, a bedroom just big enough for a double bed, and a common room that served as kitchen, living room and study.  The walls of the bedroom and common room were all lined with floor to ceiling shelves that housed the ever-growing library of rare and obscure books Dean collected.  Many were gifts from hunters grateful for his assistance, some came from retired libraries when the librarians wanted their “special” books to have a good home, but most, Dean had tracked down himself.   
  
  
The Impala slowed to a stop outside the church and Father Winchester slid out from behind the wheel, grabbed his bag from the trunk and headed inside to his bed for a much-needed good night’s sleep.   
  


*        *        *        *        *

  
  
Samuel Campbell only got in the old black truck because the cops had said he could either go with this man, John Winchester, or go to jail.  _Jail_ this time, not juvie.  It seemed not everyone shared his sense of humor about hacking into the police database to put his history teacher’s face on the most wanted list.  What was Sam expected to do when his latest guardians had grounded him to his room – basically locked him in – for two weeks?   
  
  
The scruffy man had taken him back to his house for his things, but Sam really couldn’t care less about his meager belongings at this point.  He had lived in six houses in half as many years since he’d first been sent away from the only one that had ever felt like home.  He shoved the few things he could be bothered to take with him, including his laptop, into his backpack and two duffel bags.  Just before leaving the room, he grabbed the one photo he’d kept from the corkboard above his bed.   
  
  
He climbed back into the truck and neither he nor John spoke as they pulled away from the house.  His uncle (or maybe this one was a second cousin, Sam had lost track at this point) said John was family, but he didn’t offer any more details and Sam didn’t care enough to ask.   
  
  
“How long’s the drive?” Sam asked flatly.   
  
  
John looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “Don’t you wanna know where we’re going?”   
  
  
“Does it matter?” Sam asked, meeting his gaze levelly.   
  
  
John shrugged and put the truck into gear, heading out from the driveway onto the road.  “About eight hours.”  Sam settled back into his seat, resting his head against the window and staring out into the dark night.  He really hoped Uncle John, or whoever, wasn’t a chatter; just to be safe, he closed his eyes and feigned sleep.   
  
  
A familiar dark feeling twisted around his gut and he scrunched his eyes against the loneliness that crept through him.  He hadn’t always felt this isolated, though the feeling had become familiar over the last two years.  It peaked whenever they moved him; when whatever family member had taken in the “problem child” realized that he messed up their perfect little lives too much and decided to pass him on to the next.  Like now.   
  
  
His life hadn’t started this way. Sam’s earliest memories were with Robert and Elise Campbell, raised as their son with their other child, Christian, who Sam thought was his brother for most of his young life.  It had been a fairly unremarkable childhood, but happy.  There were family dinners most nights, and either Mom or Dad would help him with his homework.  Elise always tucked him in with a story.  He and his brother were close in age, and though they didn’t avoid the usual bickering between most siblings, they had been close.  They played t-ball together, and when he was old enough, Chris walked Sam to school.     
  
  
Chris had begun acting differently toward him just after his fourteenth birthday, brushing him off, barely speaking to him and often going out of his way to avoid Sam.  Sam thought it probably had something to do with hitting puberty and being more interested in girls than in his little brother.  He discovered there was much more behind it when, in the middle of an argument, Chris had angrily blurted out the words that changed Sam’s entire life.   Sam had been in Chris’s room, asking his brother for help with their chores for the night.  They’d been arguing for 20 minutes, voices getting louder and louder, when it finally came out.   
  
  
“Why should I?  You’re not even my real brother!”  As soon as the words left his mouth, Chris’s face registered the same shock that must have shown on Sam’s.   
  
  
“What?” Sam asked, sure this was just more mean-spirited ribbing from his brother.  Needing for that to be the case.   
  
  
“N-nothing.  I…just forget it.  I’m not doing the freakin’ dishes.”   
  
  
Sam started to turn to go, but something ate at him, some piece that had always felt just a little off.  He faced Chris and asked again, “Chris, what do you mean, ‘not your real brother’?”   
  
  
Chris’s eyes fell to the floor and he took a deep breath.   
  
  
“Chris, what did that mean?  Tell me!”   
  
  
“Sam…I’m not supposed to say anything.”  Chris’s tone changed, the anger completely gone, and his hazel eyes turned soft and damp.  “You’re adopted.  Mom and Dad took you in when you were just a baby after your parents died in a fire.”     
  
  
Sam’s head spun, he felt dizzy and nauseous and suddenly the ground that had been under his feet rose up under his ass.  He cradled his head in his hands and shook it in denial of everything he’d just heard.   
  
  
“No,” Sam whispered.  “No.”  He looked up at Chris.  “No!”   
  
  
“I’m sorry, Sammy.  Mom and Dad wanted to talk to you themselves…I wasn’t supposed to know, but I found the papers when I was snooping through Dad’s desk looking for the key to the liquor cabinet.”   
  
  
“Don’t call me that.”   
  
  
“What?”   
  
  
“Sammy.  You.  Don’t get to call me that.  Anymore.”     
  
  
Sam backed out of Chris’s room and ran down the hall shutting himself into his own room.  The life he’d known really ended that day.  He confronted his parents that night when they got home.  Before they even uttered a word in reply, the looks on their faces gave everything away.  They said they loved him, he was their son and it didn’t matter how he’d come to them.  When Sam asked about his birth parents, the only answers Robert and Elise had were that they had been family, and they had indeed died in a fire, along with his brother – his _real_ brother.   
  
  
Sam tried to accept what they said, that his parents loved him the same as Chris, but he just didn’t feel it deep down.  Instead, the wriggling dark loneliness began to grow.  Sam hated it, and he began looking for anything he could to keep it at bay.  And that’s when his new life began.  He stopped being able to care about school, except to pick up the skills he’d later use for hacking and creating fake ID’s.  He started to numb himself with alcohol by the time he was 15, and he was expelled from school shortly after that.   Then came the boys, and an occasional girl.  His parents said the expulsion was the last straw, but Sam could never really be sure what had put them over the edge.  He did know for sure that they had lied.  They didn’t love him the same as they did Chris, because it was Sam they sent away.   
  
  
The next year and a half had been a blur of homes with more family that claimed to love him, until he became too much trouble.  Each had a limit on the number of times they would tolerate catching him naked with another boy, getting suspended from school, or being brought home by the police.  Then it was on to the next relative without so much as a second thought as far as Sam could tell.  There never had been someone in his life that wasn’t willing to give him up.   
  
  
And now Sam was on his way to some other relative.  He wondered how many months this one would last as he drifted into a restless sleep.   
  


*        *        *        *        *

  
  
Dean jolted awake, sitting up so fast in his bed that his still sleep-heavy head ached.  He was panting, his eyes were wet and his throat was dry and a look down showed that his hands were trembling.  He tried to piece the dream back together, but all that came back were flashes of heat on his face and smoke stinging his eyes, a small bundle being placed into his arms and the screams of an infant.  Dean blinked a few times, and when he closed his eyes again, all he saw were flames.     
  
  
He swung his feet out of the bed and planted them on the floor.  Dean scrubbed his hands down his face and shook his head again in hopes of clearing the vision.  He knew from years of having this nightmare that it would be useless to try to go back to sleep.  His mind would just keep trying to grasp at the story it would never be able to put together, and even if he fell back asleep it would end in another sweaty nightmare filled with fire and screams.  According to the clock on his nightstand it was 4:13am, but Dean knew that without looking.  It was always 4:13 when he had this nightmare.   
  
  
Dean stood and stretched; he pulled on sweats and a t-shirt.  He started the coffee maker, and as it brewed, he wondered again if he would ever figure out what the nightmare meant and why he kept having it.


	3. Faith, Love, and Sin - Chapter 2

** Chapter 2 **

“Yeah, Jim, gonna drop him off this morning.  We should get there about seven I think.”  John kept his voice low so as not to wake the sleeping teenager next to him.

 

“Well, I won’t be around to greet you, I’m afraid.  I have an early appointment and some errands I need to run before I leave town, but Dean will be here, probably in his study.  Caleb’s been stumped on a hunt and Dean’s sure the answer is in one of those old Latin books.”

 

“Alright, I’ll drop the kid with him then.  Thanks, Jim.”  Jim heard John sigh through the phone.  “I think he’s a good kid, he’s just…he’s had a real crap lot in life.”

 

“That’s the case with so many of these boys.  You’re bringing him to the right place, John.  We can help him; Dean has turned out to be amazing with even the most troubled of them.”

 

John smiled to himself at the praise for his eldest son, though no one saw it.  “Thanks again, Pastor.  I owe you.”  John hung up his phone and dropped it back into his shirt pocket.

 

“Pastor?” Sam asked crankily.  “Where are you taking me?”

 

“Thought it didn’t matter?”

 

“Look, I’m not into joining some creepy religious sect.  Just drop me in the next town, I’ll be fine on my own.”

 

“I don’t think so, son.  Your family wants you to go to Pastor Jim, he runs a school for boys.”

 

“Don’t call me that.”

 

“What?”

 

“Son.  I’m not your son.”  Sam ducked his head as he mumbled out, “Not anyone’s son.”

 

John felt that one right to his bones.  He bit back the words he wanted to say, sure at this point it would do Sam more harm than good to admit to 16 years of lying.

 

“Sorry, Sam.  And I’m not dropping you in some random town.  You’re going to this school.  It’s the only one left that will take you, and you’re smart enough to know you need a diploma.”

 

Sam hated to admit John was right, but as much as he didn’t want to go to some school full of zealots, he wanted to start out life as a drop-out even less.  “Fine,” he huffed.  “Wake me when we get there.”

*        *        *        *        *

After downing enough coffee to function, Dean pulled on his jeans and boots to head out to the horse stables to help the boys.  Pastor Jim was on his way out of town for the week, so it would be up to Dean to keep things running at the school.  It wasn’t the first time he’d left things in Dean’s more-than-capable hands, but the young priest still got a little nervous without the more experienced man as back-up.  It probably wasn’t as dangerous as facing down a demon with only his cross, bible and Latin as weapons, but somehow being left alone to manage a dozen teenage boys with well-earned reputations for trouble still sent an equal amount of adrenaline pumping through Father Winchester’s veins.

 

Dean swallowed the last lukewarm dregs of his coffee and headed up to the main house.  It was Trevor and Michael’s day for stable duty, and while Michael had come a long way in his six months at the school, Trevor was still heavily entrenched in the rebellion stage and was almost sure to still be in bed.

 

It was late October, so the morning air was chilly as he made his way up the gentle slope of the driveway between the church and the school.  He found the boys exactly as he’d suspected, Michael dressed and eating a bowl of cereal though his eyes were barely half-way open. 

 

“Morning, Michael.  Seen Trevor?”  

 

Michael met his eyes, but didn’t immediately answer.  Snitching was among the highest sins in these boys’ eyes, and though Michael was now towing the line, he didn’t want to get anyone else in trouble.  Father Winchester watched as the boy weighed his options.  In the end, Michael knew Dean would just go look for Trevor himself anyway, so he saw no harm in jutting out his chin to point towards the stairs.  It was all the confirmation Dean needed to climb the stairs to rouse the slumbering teen.

 

Fifteen minutes later the three of them were entering the stables, though Trevor was visibly unhappy about it.  In fact, he did nothing but grumble the entire time and fought Father Winchester every step of the way.  The three of them did eventually get all the stalls cleaned out and all the horses fed and it actually didn’t take much longer than any other morning.  

 

Dean dismissed the two boys to get themselves cleaned up before class and headed back to his own apartment to do the same.  Even when it was cold outside, the heavy labor of mucking the stalls made him sweat and the smell of the manure always clung to him afterwards.  Right now nothing sounded better to him than a nice hot shower.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

The feeling of the truck slowing and the bumping of gravel under the tires pulled Sam from sleep.  He blinked and rubbed fists into his bleary eyes.  After throwing a quick glance in John’s direction from under his bangs, Sam looked out the window.  The dark of night was blurring into the dull grey of the early morning of what would probably be a cloudy if not rainy day.  He guessed it was somewhere around 7am, the time John told whoever it was on the other end of the line that they would arrive.

 

The truck crunching to a stop in the gravel driveway confirmed his thoughts.  He peered through the faint light to assess his new school, which would also be his new home, he supposed.  He sighed, at least there would be no family to reject him this time.  Sam squinted his eyes, then rubbed them again when he was sure he must be mistaken about what he saw.

 

“This is a church.”

 

“Yep,” John answered, curt and without a hint of emotion to give Sam any idea what he was thinking.

 

“I thought you said you were bringing me to a school?” Sam narrowed stormy hazel eyes at the older man.  “I’m a little old to leave on a church doorstep, dontcha think?”  

 

John forced a heavy breath in through his nose before responding; Sam could have no idea how close to the truth of John’s life that statement came.  He’d dropped his baby off with family and left his tiny son at this very church so many years ago, but the guilt was still as fresh as if only days had passed.

 

“The school is here.”  John put the truck in park and reached for his door handle.  “Get your bag, I’ll walk you in.”

 

“I can find my own way.”  John raised an eyebrow at that.  “What? Are you worried I’m going to run off? Where am I going to go?  We’re in the middle of freakin’ nowhere for all I can tell.  Anyway, I got nowhere else to go.”  When John didn’t say anything Sam added, “Trust me.”

 

John sighed.  He wasn’t sure it was such a great idea to trust a kid who had found nothing but trouble for the last two years.  On the other hand, he supposed he owed Sam the benefit of the doubt at the very least.  And the kid had a point, there really was nowhere for him to run off to.  John pulled his door shut again and nodded at Sam.

 

Sam opened his door, reached into the back for his bag, and then gave John an aborted wave before backing away from the truck.  John raised his chin in return before putting the truck into gear and heading back down the driveway.  It might be better if Dean didn’t see John at this point anyway.  Or maybe it was that John wasn’t ready to deal with the repercussions of his oldest discovering the truth behind the most heinous lie John had ever told.

 

“What have I done?” John murmured aloud to himself as the church and his youngest son got smaller and smaller in his rearview mirror.  He could only hope that they might forgive him some day.  If not, at least now they would have each other.

 

Sam watched the old truck disappear down the driveway and turned around to face the old building.  He sighed.  Might as well get this over with.   


  
He walked around the side of the church but didn’t see any other buildings and decided the church probably housed the school, or at least an administrative office.  He had no desire to go through the big wooden double doors that would surely lead into a sanctuary, but on the side of the building he found a smaller dark wooden door and decided that must be the school entrance.   He hoisted his bag up on his shoulder and pushed open the door, expecting to find a waiting room or office behind it.

 

What he found was what appeared to be a main living area of a very small apartment.  The walls were lined with books, there was a stove and small table, a sofa…and a nearly naked man.  An incredibly hot man, skin still damp from a shower, wearing only a towel and an expression as stunned as Sam’s must be.  

 

Sam tried to look away, but he just couldn’t make his eyes cooperate.  The guy was probably in his early twenties, blonde and fair-skinned, and Sam saw freckles spread over his shoulders and down his firm pecs and gently defined abs.  Those same caramel flecks were on his very well-muscled arms.  It was the kind of physique that came from physical labor and not from too many hours in a gym.  Sam’s gaze wandered back up and got stuck on the tattoo over the man’s left pectoral.  A pentagram surrounded by flames seemed an odd choice for someone at a religious school, but the dark ink against the pale skin made Sam’s mouth water.  When he managed to tear his eyes away from the amazing body, he found a lightly stubbled jaw, more freckles spattered across his nose, and the most gorgeous, round, green eyes that were staring back at him.

 

“Um.  H-hi.  I, uh, I’m Sam,” Sam stuttered out. “I’m here for school.  Uh, I’m supposed to start at the school here.  Just got dropped off.  Sorry, I can…I can go back out if you…”

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

It wasn’t the first time a new student had mistakenly entered his apartment looking for a main office.  The school consisted of a large renovated farm house and it was located behind the even larger barn which housed the horse stables about a quarter mile further up the driveway.  The church was the first building people encountered, and the outside door of Dean’s apartment in the basement looked like it might hold the school’s offices.

 

It was, however, the first time Dean had ever met a new student while wearing only a towel.  And although he wasn’t an overly modest man, Father Winchester preferred to greet new students in his collar and black suit.  However, this new student, Sam, seemed to be pretty nervous, so Dean didn’t want to turn him out.

 

“No, that’s alright, you don’t have to go back out, just have a seat on the sofa.  I’m going back to the bedroom to get dressed.  Then we’ll head up to the school, get your paperwork filled out and I’ll show you around.”

 

“Thanks,” Sam replied as he perched on the old sofa.  He watched as the guy turned and walked the few steps to the bedroom.  His back was possibly even sexier than his front; rippling muscles on either side of a perfect dip of a spine, leading down to what was easily the nicest ass Sam had ever seen.  His strong legs were gently bowed, and Sam couldn’t help but imagine them spread around him.  The man disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door, but it didn’t quite latch and he must not have noticed that it drifted back open about an inch and a half.  

 

It wasn’t enough to give a clear view, but Sam caught glimpses of enough to have him half hard.  He pulled his backpack into his lap to hide the bulge, and he thought he probably should feel worse about perving on some strange guy, but he could not look away.  Sam had honestly never seen a more beautiful man.  The guy bent to step into his pants and Sam got a slivered view of that perfect ass and barely caught himself before he moaned out loud.  Maybe this school wouldn’t be all bad.

 

The freckled man disappeared back behind the door somewhere and Sam heard the sounds of more rustling cloth and metal jingling which he guessed was a belt.  He glanced around the room as he waited and realized that every wall in the place was lined with bookshelves and they were all full or nearly full.  Hot _and_ smart.  Perfect.

 

Just as Sam’s mind was wandering through some really enjoyable fantasies, the door swung open and there stood the gorgeous guy.  Sam blinked as he tried to comprehend the clothing: black pants and suit jacket, black shirt…and a stiff white collar.  The beautiful man with the perfect ass was a _priest_?  Sam was so fucked.

 

“Now that I’m decent, let me introduce myself.  I’m Father Winchester.  Pastor Jim and I run the school.”  Dean extended his hand, but Sam just blinked back dumbly.  “You ok?”  Dean asked when Sam made no move to let on he’d even heard Dean.  “Sam?”

 

Sam shook his head in an attempt to clear it.  He looked down for a moment to collect himself, then shook the hand _Father_ Winchester offered him.  “Sorry, I guess I just didn’t realize you were a priest.”  Sam let the Father’s hand go then muttered to himself, “Sure don’t look like any priest I’ve ever seen.”

 

Dean was used to people being surprised about his profession; he was younger than many of his colleagues and he certainly wasn’t the conventional priest, which he guessed carried over into his general demeanor.  He chuckled at Sam’s reaction and then flashed him a genuine smile.  “Don’t worry about it.  Hard to tell a guy’s occupation when you meet him in a towel.”

 

Sam flushed a bit at the reminder of the Father’s former state of undress, but returned his smile and a nervous laugh of his own. 

 

“Well, let’s go get you set up,” Dean said cheerfully and headed outside.

 

“Sure.”  Sam let Father Winchester lead the way, and it turned out that ass looked just as good in the black pants as it had in the towel.  In fact, the whole get-up only seemed to enhance the Father’s good looks and Sam let his duffle bag fall in front of him to camouflage just how much he was enjoying the view.

 

Father Winchester was mildly and pleasantly surprised by Sam’s demeanor.  He’d seen more than his share of these teen boys give more than just a nasty attitude when they’d been dropped off and left under the care of the school.  He’d lost count of the names he’s been called amid other insults to his manhood, his mother and anything else they could come up with.  He let most of it go without much notice, though occasionally he was impressed with the creativity of some.  Dean held no illusions about his newest charge being an angel either.  He had witnessed in other boys this politeness that soon washed away as they got settled into their new environment and realized exactly how much discipline was expected of them.  Dean had been warned just how many different families Sam had worn out with all variety of misbehavior. 

 

They reached the house and Dean showed Sam the kitchen, explained the chores that were expected of the boys as well as the system used to divide them equally.  He pointed out the bathroom, the study, the TV room to be used only when all chores and homework were done and then led him up the staircase to the second floor which held all the bedrooms.

 

Sam listened as Father Winchester showed him around the old farmhouse, and managed to hold his number of eye-rolls in the single digits despite all the talk of chores and expectations and discipline.  He’d heard this same spiel with every new home he’d been to, although hearing it come out of those plump lips made it somewhat more interesting.  Sam let the Father lead him up the staircase, his hazel eyes never leaving the flexing muscles of the older man’s buttocks.  

 

The space upstairs consisted of a long corridor that passed by many rooms.  Sam listened to the explanation that most of these were bedrooms and that they were shared by two or three boys each.  The full capacity of the house was 15 boys, but currently, counting Sam there would be 13.  The Father pointed out the three bathrooms that would be shared as well, and explained the shower schedule, finishing by stating that if Sam did not get up in time for his turn, he would not get a shower, and would have an extra chore added to his list for the week.  This earned both an eye-roll and a raised eyebrow, though his expression neutralized when Father Winchester turned around to face him.

 

Dean didn’t miss the eye-rolling and other expressions of exasperation that flittered across the young man’s face as the rules were laid out for him.  He was used to this, had seen it every time he showed a new kid around, but something was different with Sam.  Father Winchester felt an inexplicable need to protect the young man, it was as if there was some invisible thread binding them together already.  Dean tried to shake it off.  He knew how insane it sounded, but still, something was drawing him to this boy.  He was even more determined than usual to save this kid’s soul and help bring him back onto the right path for his life.  

 

Dean turned around to find tilted hazel eyes focused low, and he was helpless to stop the flush that colored his cheeks as he realized where the boy’s gaze had been directed.  Sam’s eyes dragged slowly up his body to his face and Father Winchester was met with a crooked grin.  He raised an eyebrow to which Sam only shrugged, letting his eyes skim back down the young priest’s physique, before the boy turned slowly around and sauntered down the hall.

 

Dean realized he was watching Sam walk away, and the sight of the lean muscles working under his well-fitted jeans and t-shirt, coupled with the lingering caress of Sam’s gaze had stirred something in his blood.  Before he could fully put a name to those feelings, Dean pushed them down deep and ignored them.

 

“So, which room is mine?” Sam asked from halfway down the hallway.

 

“Second door on the left.”  Sam nodded and rapped his knuckles on the door before pushing it open.  “You can leave your bags on your bed and we’ll go downstairs to finish your paper work.”

 

Sam opened the bedroom door to find one single bed and a bunk bed.  There was a snoring person-shaped lump in the single bed, so he dropped his bags on the bottom bed of the bunk.  He took a second to gather himself with the first moments out of Father Winchester’s rather distracting presence.  He couldn’t quite decide how to feel about his situation.  Graduating high school was a necessity, and this place was most likely his last chance.  He should have seen this coming, really, but when John had said he was bringing Sam to a school, he had pictured more of a boarding school, and not this small home-like facility.  Father Winchester was an unexpected and pleasant surprise; he didn’t look like any priest Sam had ever known, although the blathering on about rules felt very priest-like.  Maybe the guy just needed to loosen up a little, and Sam could think of plenty of techniques he wanted to use on the Father to loosen him up.  A wicked grin curled his lips as he left the room to join Father Winchester for his paperwork. 

*        *        *        *        *

Father Winchester sat behind the desk, grateful for the cover it provided as it seemed that Samuel Campbell’s chosen method of defiance was to attempt to rouse the most inappropriate of responses.  The teen sat slouched back in his chair, legs relaxed and falling wide open.  His eyes were half lidded, but still somehow sparkling with a mischievous glint which left no mystery about his intentions.  Between his answers to Father Winchester’s questions, he alternately ran his tongue slowly over pink lips and caught the bottom one between his white teeth.

 

Dean had managed to get through most of the admission forms and was down to the honor code.  Sam smirked and snickered about nearly every clause, and Dean knew what the last one was and he could only imagine the young man’s reaction.

 

“Finally, while you are here, we ask that you remain pure of body.” Father Winchester paused to take a deep breath as Sam’s face morphed into a look of mocking disbelief.  Dean rushed on, “So, there will be no drugs, alcohol or smoking.  And no sexually inappropriate behavior.”

 

“You mean to tell me no one here drinks?  Ever?”

 

“They do not.”

 

“No smoking?”

 

“None,” Dean said levelly.

 

“And no one gets off?”  Sam’s voice had lowered and he looked right into Father Winchester’s green eyes as he asked the question.  “At all?”

 

Dean swallowed the lump in his suddenly dry throat as a hundred highly inappropriate images of the young man in front of him flew through his brain.  He had to break eye contact to continue, “Well…we allow...you to….” Dean trailed off trying to force the tremor from his voice. “You may engage in masturbation if you must have an outlet for your…frustrations.  But there are no overnight guests, and absolutely no fraternizing between the students.”  Dean managed to steady his voice and put command into the last sentence, but his heart sped again when he saw the look on Sam’s face.  The hazel eyes and slick pink lips had turned almost predatory and Father Winchester was sure he did not want to answer whatever question Sam was about to pose.

 

“How about between students and teachers, _Father_?”  Sam asked, somehow managing to make Dean’s title the most dirty sounding of the words that came out of his smirking lips.

 

Father Winchester’s quickened breathing may have given him away, but his voice held firm.  “Absolutely not.  Never.”

 

Sam leaned forward in his chair, his long frame angling over Dean’s desk.  “If you say so, Father Winchester.”

 

The thunderous sounds of twelve teenage boys clamoring down the stairs at the same time broke the spell of the heavy atmosphere between them.  “It’s time for class.  Join the rest of the boys; I will see you in the classroom, Samuel.”

 

“You sure will, Father,” Sam said with a wink before turning and sauntering out of the office.  Dean took a moment to steel himself with a few deep breaths before heading out to teach.  He hoped Pastor Jim returned sooner rather than later; it seemed their newest charge was going to be a handful and Dean could use the more experienced man’s help.

 

 

 

 

[ Chapter 3 ](http://deansdirtybb.livejournal.com/16950.html)


	4. Faith, Love, and Sin - Chapter 3

** Chapter 3 **

Father Winchester stood at the blackboard in front of 13 sets of eyes, but there was only one set whose hazel depths he could feel boring into him.  He turned around to face the classroom to find that Sam was indeed staring at him, or more accurately, devouring him with those tilted, twinkling eyes.  His mouth went dry and he suddenly lost his place in the lecture.  Dean blinked several times and rubbed at his forehead as he looked down at his notes.

 

  
When he found his place and managed to get his brain and mouth moving in sync he looked back up to find Sam’s pink lips lifted into a half-grin.  Dean quickly moved his eyes around the room, connecting with the other students as he explained the politics behind the Civil War.  He put serious energy into avoiding those deep hazel pools filled with nothing but trouble, but the whole time Dean was talking, he could feel himself being studied, taken apart, and it was all he could do not to allow himself to be pulled back into that gaze.  

 

Ten minutes from the end of the period, Dean thought he would be safe to steal a quick glance.  He looked at the young man he’d been avoiding for the better part of an hour to find the same rapt hungry expression on his face.  When Sam realized the Father’s attention was once again fastened on him, his tongue slipped out to slowly swipe across his pink lips, leaving them shiny, wet and so tempting.  Dean didn’t even realize he was staring at the boy’s mouth until Michael’s voice broke through his trance, “Father Winchester?  What happened?  With the southern economy?”

 

For the second time in this interminable hour, Dean found himself scrubbing his eyes and shaking his head in an effort to find his thoughts.  He stumbled through a quick explanation of how slavery was tied into the economy of the southern states, deciding it was safer to avoid looking up from the desk.  He glanced at the clock to find there were still several minutes left in this period, but he couldn’t take another moment of Sam’s attention without a break to gather himself.  “Ok, homework for the weekend is a 500 word essay about the moral and economic implications of slavery in the United States before the war.  Class dismissed.”

 

The boys didn’t move, class never ended early and they didn’t trust that they were actually free.   Father Winchester waved an arm, “Go ahead, next period will be algebra, and we’ll be reviewing your homework, so make sure you are prepared to work the equations on the board for everyone.”  

 

Slowly the young men rose from their seats, gathered their books and filed out.  Sam straggled behind, but when he realized Father Winchester was going to be tied up in a conversation with one of the other students who had questions about the assignment, he ambled out the door as well.  Dean sighed in relief as he saw the tall figure leave the room out of the corner of his eye.  

 

Father Winchester walked back to the office after helping Jonathon with the assignment.  He closed the door and fell back on it, his hands rubbing down his face as he took a few deep steadying breaths.  What was going on with him?  There had been students in the past who had attempted to use this particular form of acting out, but Dean had always resisted easily and he’d certainly never felt this, this…temptation.  Oh, God help him, he was tempted by this boy.  

 

His heart pounded with the horror of his realization and Dean mumbled out a prayer for strength under his breath.  He knew he must not give in and he trusted himself to remain true to his vows, especially when it came to his students.  But still, there was something he just could not put a name to that drew him to Sam with a much stronger pull than he could simply ignore.  He wished again that Pastor Jim was here, for advice, assistance, and if all else failed, for confession.  Dean was grateful to spend the next period sitting at the back of the room, out of the line of that fiery hazel gaze. 

*        *        *        *        *

The three days Pastor Jim was gone crept by in a succession of hot stares, wet lips, and cocky smirks.  Father Winchester was truly at his wit’s end with the situation by the time his mentor returned.  Jim sensed the tension in Dean immediately and sat him down with a cup of coffee to talk about it.  The younger man explained that the new student had been pushing limits, though he left out the sexual nature of Samuel Campbell’s attentions, and he pushed down his own feelings toward the teenager.  

 

Pastor Jim listened and offered the feedback that Dean already knew but needed to hear from the older man.  He could tell there was some piece Dean was leaving out, but he figured when he was ready to talk he would open up.  Pastor Jim had learned long ago that the best way with Dean Winchester was to let him come to things at his own pace and he had never pushed him, not when he was 4 and unready to speak and not now when he was 20 and clearly not ready to share what was truly at the root of his frustration.  

 

Jim went to his desk and shuffled through the paperwork on their newest student, stopping when he saw the name at the top.  Samuel Campbell.  John Winchester had dropped off a Campbell?  Pastor Jim had been through enough with John to remember Mary’s family name, and he would never forget the name of the baby John had grieved.  A shiver ran down his spine.  It couldn’t be possible.  John’s son Sam had died; John had told him so with his own lips.  He swallowed heavily as he thought of all the things John Winchester had done in his warpath against whatever it was that had killed his family, but surely John would not have lied about something like this.  His jaw tensed as he realized there really wasn’t anything he’d put past the man.

 

“Dean, is Samuel Campbell the boy that John dropped off?”

 

“Dad?  Dad dropped him off?  I don’t know; he just wandered into my apartment the morning you left.”

 

Pastor Jim nodded slowly.  “This must be the troubled young man he called me about.  Can you excuse me a moment, Dean.  I need to make a phone call.”

 

“What’s going on?”  Dean didn’t like the look on Pastor Jim’s face, and although he wasn’t sure why, it seemed the fact that his father had been the one to deliver Sam had dire connotations.

 

“Probably nothing, son.  I just want to check on a few things.”  Jim made himself smile for the young priest.  “Go relax in your apartment for a bit.  It’s Friday, the boys are off for the night, and so are you.  I’ll handle anything that comes up.”

 

Dean didn’t entirely trust the smile Jim gave him, but it still felt reassuring.  He knew there would be no convincing the Pastor to spill his secret now, but he also trusted that Jim would tell him everything as soon as he had the answers he wanted.  He said a quick “Thanks,” and then left the office to go enjoy the solitude of his apartment.

 

As soon as the door closed behind Dean, Pastor Jim picked up his phone and dialed John Winchester’s number.  The voice that answered was as gruff as always.

 

“John, what is going on?”  Jim asked, cutting right to the issue at hand.  He needed to know what the new boy’s story was, and Dean deserved answers.

 

“What do you mean, Jim?  Going on with what?”

 

Jim uttered only two words:  “Samuel Campbell.”

 

John sighed.  He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this secret forever, but he hadn’t expected Jim to put the puzzle together quite _that_ quickly.  

 

“Well?”  Jim asked.

 

“Well what?”  John knew very well what Jim was asking, but he needed to stall since he still had no idea how he was going to respond to this.

 

“Why does the kid you dropped off share a name with the son you lost and the surname of the wife you buried?”

 

“What are you saying, Jim?”

 

“Stop dancing around this John.  Answer me.  Who is this boy?”

 

John sat down at the rickety table in his cheap motel room and reached for the bottle of whiskey he’d just opened.  He downed a shot and then cleared his throat.  It was time to come clean about his 16 year old lie.  “That boy is my son.”

 

“Your son?”

 

“Yes.”  John sighed heavily before pushing on.  He wasn’t sure he had the strength for this, but now that the words were out he just wanted to get the whole thing over with. “Sammy survived the fire…Dean carried him out when I went back for Mary.  He was with us for the first two weeks, but I was a mess, Jim.  I couldn’t care for a baby, so I took him to Mary’s family to be raised.  Told Dean, then you and everyone else, he’d died.  Just thought it would be easier that way.  Gave the kid a chance to have a normal stable life I wasn’t gonna be able to provide.”

 

“Easier?”  Jim asked in disbelief.  “Easier for who?  Dean still grieves that baby.  Has nightmares.  How could you John?  If you couldn’t do it, why’d you separate those boys?  They could have been there for each other.  Why didn’t you at least keep them together?”

 

John took another shot before answering.  “I don’t know, Jim.  I was out of my head.  I should have given Dean the same chance, but I thought I could handle him.  Until I got there with you and you pointed out how wrong I was.  How much Dean needed what I couldn’t give-“ John cut himself off as his voice began to fail him.  “I screwed up, and it just seemed to keep building and I didn’t know how to fix it, I guess.”

 

“So what, you just planned to let them go on not knowing each other for their entire lives?”

 

John hadn’t really thought about it that way until he’d had Sam in his truck on the way to drop him off with his older brother.  He had only thought about giving them each a better life than he could by raising them himself; it hadn’t occurred to him that he was also depriving his children of each other, of a brotherhood that may have made a difference in their lives.  “I didn’t really plan much at all.”  John heaved another sigh.  “I thought Sam would be happy with Mary’s family…and he was for a while.  Then when he did start acting out I couldn’t bring him to you and Dean, because he didn’t know about Dean…or me.  And Dean thought he was dead.  Then when he wore out the last of Mary’s relatives, I just didn’t have any other options.  I knew you could help.  I just…I don’t know, Jim.  I don’t know.”

 

Jim heard the weary tone of his friend’s voice.  He could understand the helplessness of John’s situation, but the thing he couldn’t understand was the original lie that brought him to this place.  Though, put in John’s place, having watched the love of his life burst into flames while pinned to a ceiling, being thrust into an until-then unknown world of supernatural evil, homeless and trying to manage an infant and a four-year-old while coping with his own emotions…Jim wasn’t sure how he would have handled the situation either.  But, still, John had lied to Dean and Sam for 16 years, and Jim had witnessed firsthand what John’s actions had done to Dean, whom Jim loved like his own son.  At any point in the last decade and a half, John could have righted this.  Could have spared Dean some of his loneliness, spared Sam some of his misery.

 

“What did you think would happen when they got under the same roof again?  Did you think no one would figure any of this out?  Dammit, John, what am I supposed to tell them now?”

 

“Nothing!”  John burst out.  “You can’t, Jim.  They-“

 

“I won’t lie to them anymore, John.  Don’t even ask that of me.  They deserve the truth.  They deserve the chance to be brothers now.  So either you get yourself back here right now and you tell them, or I will.”

 

“I’m in the middle of a job.  Can’t just leave.”

 

“Then I’ll tell them.  Tonight.  I won’t participate in this lie any more than you’ve already made me.”

 

“I never intended…Jim, I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m not the one who needs to hear your apologies, John.”

*        *        *        *        *

When Sam was told he was wanted in the office to meet with not just Father Winchester, but with the head of the school, Pastor Jim, he figured he’d already earned himself big trouble in his newest school.  He wasn’t sure how, the only thing he’d done was look at the young priest – well, maybe he’d let his intentions show a bit more than the good Father was comfortable with.  Still, it seemed a stretch to expel him for that.

 

He stepped into the office to find Father Winchester sitting in a chair and Pastor Jim standing behind the desk.  “Sam?”  Pastor Jim held out his hand and Sam shook it, “Nice to meet you.  Please, close the door and have a seat.”

 

Sam nodded, shut the door and sat down next to Father Winchester, who had yet to make eye contact with him.  “What’s going on?”  Sam directed the question at the priest, who finally looked at him. 

 

Dean shrugged.  “I’m not sure.  Pastor Jim asked me to come meet with you and him.”  He looked to the older man questioningly.  “I guess he has something he wants to discuss with us.”

 

“I do,” Pastor Jim said as he came around to sit on the desk in front of them.  “Sam, how much do you know about your family?  Your real family?”

 

Sam was a bit put off by the question.  He considered the Campbells who’d raised him his real family, but he guessed that the pastor was asking about the parents he’d been born to.  “You mean my birth parents?”  Jim nodded.  “Not much, really.  Robert and Elise are the only parents I’ve known.  ‘Til they threw me out.”  Sam tried and failed to keep the bitter tone out of his voice.  “All I was told was that my mother and father died in a fire.  Along with my brother.”

 

Dean’s eyebrows lifted.  “A fire?”  Sam nodded, not sure why Father Winchester cared how his parents died.  It didn’t really seem important, dead was dead and it all left Sam an unwanted orphan.  Dean looked at the young man, his green eyes softened with kindness.  “My mom died in a fire, too.  When I was four.  My baby brother too.”

 

Jim took in a breath, and the faces of both young men turned to him.  “Did John tell you anything else on the drive to bring you here?”

 

Dean’s jaw clenched, “How does Dad know Sam?”

 

“John’s your father?”  Sam sounded as surprised as Dean.  Jim watched both of their faces as their minds tried to process the importance of this new piece of information.  He sighed, there would be no easy way to deliver this news, and they deserved the truth sooner rather than later.  

 

“Yes, Dean.  John brought Sam here, after he picked him up from the Campbell’s.  And yes, Sam, John is Father Winchester’s biological father.  The rest of what I have to tell you boys probably isn’t going to be easy for either of you to hear.”

 

“Jim?”  Dean asked, clearly concerned and from the tension in his body, nervous about what was coming.

 

“What’s going on?”  Sam asked, an edge of anger to his tone that Jim understood to be the way the youth handled uncertainty.  “Just spill it already.”

 

Jim looked at them and spoke gently, but clearly.  “Dean, your mother died in that fire, but your baby brother did not.  Sam, your mother did die in a fire, but not your father or your brother.”  Jim took a deep breath and continued.  “You have the same mother, Mary Campbell Winchester.  And the same father, who is still very much alive, John Winchester.”  He looked at Dean, whose face was twisted in confusion and a hundred other emotions, “Dean, Sam is your brother.  Your father lied about him dying.  He couldn’t raise a baby in his state after he lost his wife, so he brought-” Jim turned to face the younger brother, “Sam, he wanted you to have the best life possible, so he brought you to Robert and Elise to be raised in a real family.”  Jim paused, making sure he had the attention of both young men before finishing.  “You are brothers.”

 

Dean’s mind reeled.  His brother was alive?  His father had lied to him all this time?  And Sam was his brother?  Sam, who had done nothing but flirt with him since he’d arrived?  Sam, who tempted him in ways he hadn’t felt in years.  How was he supposed to deal with this?

 

Sam fought to process what Jim was telling him, but his brain swirled and the room tilted in front of him.  He’d been told before that his entire life had been a lie, and now it was happening all over again.  His brother was alive, and sitting right here next to him.  The gorgeous man who Sam had placed at the center of all his fantasies…was his brother.  And his father was alive.  He was alive, but he’d still given Sam away.  He’d chosen to give him up.  Somehow that was so much worse than thinking he was an orphan.

 

It was Dean who spoke first.  “John’s been lying to me all this time?  My brother didn’t die?”

 

“No, Dean.  Actually, John said you carried Sam out of the fire yourself.”  Dean’s eyes widened.  The nightmares of the fire and the baby…they weren’t dreams.  They were memories.  

 

“How could he do that?”  Dean’s green eyes flared with rage.  John had never been the best father, he’d left him with Jim (although that may have been the only good decision he’d ever made for his eldest son), he dropped in and out of Dean’s life at will and he’d been less than supportive of all the big decisions Dean had made, especially about entering the priesthood.  But to lie to him about the death of his brother?  Dean would never forgive John for this.  

 

“I can’t defend what he did, son, but I think he believed he was protecting you.  Both of you.”  Jim’s tone was gentle and even, and after speaking he looked back at Sam.  Dean followed the older man’s line of sight to the teenager sitting next to him.  Sam’s honey tan skin had gone pale and his lips were pulled tight.

 

“Sam?”  Dean asked, afraid to spook the boy, but even more afraid of what was happening in his head unchecked.  Sam’s head popped up and his swirling eyes found Dean’s, instinctively, Dean reached his hand out and grasped Sam’s shoulder.  It seemed to pull Sam from his thoughts.

 

The heat from Father Winchester’s hand bled through his shirt and traveled down over his chest.  For a second Sam thought he should be ashamed of the attraction he felt for the priest…for his brother.  But this revelation didn’t really change much for him.  He started this day as an orphan and finding out that his father was alive didn’t change the rest of his life.  He hadn’t been raised with Father Winchester, with _Dean_ , as a brother, so it didn’t matter to him that there was a blood tie between them.

 

Sam turned his head to look at Pastor Jim.  “I don’t care if he died, or if he gave me away.  He’s still not my father.”

Sam stood and left without another word or a look to either of the other men.  

 

 

 

[ Chapter 4 ](http://deansdirtybb.livejournal.com/17161.html)


	5. Faith, Love, and Sin - Chapter 4

** Chapter 4 **

Three days after Pastor Jim’s revelation, Father Winchester was still trying to wrap his mind around it.  _Sam was his brother, the baby he’d saved from the fire?_ He looked for distraction in his books and research, but wasn’t able to concentrate, and although he had to some degree been looking forward to the diversion of teaching classes, Pastor Jim had insisted on running the lessons for the week.  Truthfully, Dean was somewhat relieved he would be spared the stress of trying to teach the boys while Sam’s intense hazel eyes tracked his every move.

 

  
He was pulled from his thoughts by the ringing of his phone and he looked down to find his father’s number, again.  John had been trying to reach him for days, and Dean could only assume Jim had told his father about the conversation with him and Sam.  Dean was not ready to talk to his father yet.  Whether it was excuses or apologies, Dean just didn’t want to hear it.  His entire life his father had lied about the brother he grieved every day.  The brother he now had beside him.  The brother who clearly wanted most unbrotherly things from him.

 

Dean pushed up from his chair and paced the room, his hands scrubbing over the stubble on his face.  How could Sam want him that way?  Even before they found out about their blood tie, Dean was still a priest and Sam’s teacher.  And the worst of it wasn’t that Sam had shown those intentions, but that Father Winchester was actually tempted by them, by Sam.

 

He shook his head as he began a new round of trips across his floor.  He could not think that way.  Not now.  Sam needed him to be strong, be the responsible older brother looking out for his best interests.  Dean renewed his resolve to help Sam heal and find his way back from the path of self-destruction.  


  
*        *        *        *        *   


Sam seriously considered taking off.  He even packed his meager belongings and snuck out of the old farmhouse, but halfway down the driveway he realized what a bad idea that was.  They really were in the middle of nowhere, and even if Sam got away and somehow found civilization again, he had nowhere to go.  There was no way to run away from this, and Sam knew dropping out of school would do nothing but make his life even more difficult.  So he turned back around.

 

Halfway up the driveway he was met by Pastor Jim.  He braced himself for the lecture and punishment he was sure would be the result of getting caught in an obvious run-away attempt.  He was surprised when the pastor completely ignored the fact that was carrying his entire life in two duffels and a backpack and instead quietly joined Sam on the walk to the farmhouse.

 

“Sam, I won’t push, but I want you to know that I am here if you do need someone to listen.  You’ve been through more than I can imagine.  Most people don’t have to deal with one life-altering lie being revealed to them, let alone a second possibly more shattering revelation.”

 

Sam didn’t answer, but at least decided to spare the man his caustic retort.  It seemed Pastor Jim was honestly trying to be kind and he deserved that small favor.  He was not, however, going to be sharing his feelings on the matter, with Pastor Jim or anyone else.  He didn’t even have any intentions of examining that dark twisting mess for himself.  No, Sam had no need for introspection, he needed only to get through the next year and a half so he could graduate and then begin a life of his own where it didn’t matter who had given birth to him or raised him, where he was responsible for himself.

 

*        *        *        *        *

Sam’s best intentions didn’t last long.  His sullen silence lasted a month, despite more attempts from Pastor Jim and several from Father Winchester, he would not, or could not talk about how he felt or even give voice to what he thought about discovering his father and brother were alive.  As many teenagers were bound to do when faced with emotions and turmoil that were beyond understanding, Sam began to act out again.

 

Though he was smart enough to pull straight A’s with little effort, Sam put no energy into his schoolwork, only doing the bare minimum to pass.  Father Winchester found it completely exasperating that a student with such potential simply refused to apply himself.  He tried to encourage Sam to put more effort in, telling him with the grades he was capable of getting he could get a scholarship, go to college.  Sam rolled his eyes, and then leered at Father Winchester as he asked for private tutoring.  Dean fixed his face in a stern expression and answered that Pastor Jim would gladly meet with Sam for lessons, though Sam most likely did not need tutoring.

 

Days in the classroom became a predictable mix of Sam inattentively slouching back in his seat, or trying every dirty trick in the book to fluster Father Winchester in front of the other students.  Though Dean knew that unnamed pull of desire toward the young man was still there somewhere deep in his mind, he refused to acknowledge it and pushed it back with reminders of his professional responsibility and his brotherly duty to Sam.

 

Once Dean discovered that Sam hadn’t died in the fire that killed their mother, he realized that his recurring nightmares of flames and a crying infant were actually his long-repressed memories of saving his little brother from the flames.  Slowly a few very fuzzy memories came back to Dean of motel rooms and bottles and curling around his baby brother to sleep at night.  It all only served to make Dean that much more protective of the kid and he was determined to be there for Sam.  No matter how his younger brother pushed, Dean would not be another person who gave him up.

 

Even with these best intentions, Father Winchester still found himself lost to moments of weakness.  Sam’s lithe young body was enough to invite sinful thoughts, and the teenager knew exactly how to turn Dean’s reluctant mind to temptation.  He would wait until Father Winchester’s eyes were on him and stretch his long arms over his head until the hem of his t-shirt rode up, revealing a stripe of tanned skin and the top of a dark trail of hair.  When passing Dean in the halls, there never seemed to be enough room for Sam to get past without brushing against him, Sam’s body heat burning Father Winchester through his clothes and his scent invading his senses.  And Sam never missed an opportunity to remind Dean of the sinful promise of pleasure that smart mouth held; endlessly licking his lips until they were spit-shiny and biting them until they swelled.  Those sweet lips haunted dreams Dean refused to admit to anyone.

*        *        *        *        *

In late December, when many of the boys had left to spend the holidays with their families, Sam withdrew into himself again.  Dean wanted to be grateful for the reprieve from the endless litany of inappropriate behaviors, but the fact that Sam wasn’t acting out didn’t show a change of heart, it only served to show exactly how upset Sam was.  Dean invited Sam to lunch in town, making it clear this was not a date.  Sam sullenly picked at his fries and barely answered any questions Dean posed in an attempt to start a conversation.

 

“Look, I know it sucks.  I mean I can’t begin to imagine how you feel, but I get what it’s like to be ditched by Dad.  He’s missed more Christmases than he’s attended for my entire life.”  

 

Sam raised an eyebrow.  “He’s not my Dad.  Not really.  He’s just the first person to ditch me.”  Dean opened his mouth to reply, but Sam cut him off.  “I don’t really wanna talk about that.  About him.  And I don’t give a rat’s ass about Christmas.”  Sam dragged a French fry through ketchup and stuffed it in his mouth.

 

Dean sighed, “Fair enough.  What do you want to talk about?”

 

“Let’s talk about you, Father.”

 

Against his better judgment, Dean allowed the turn in conversation.  “What about me?”

 

“How about how you make that collar look hotter than _sin_.”  Sam’s lips curved on the last word and he licked salt and grease from his fingers as he watched Dean shift in his seat.

 

“Sam.”  Dean’s tone was full of warning, though he suspected the teenager would ignore it.

 

“What?  I don’t know why you fight this so hard.  I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

 

Dean couldn’t argue with the truth in that statement, so he ignored the accusation.  “It’s wrong.”

 

“Why?  Don’t tell me you have some homophobic sermon ready for me, I know you don’t give a shit about whether any of us is gay or not.”

 

“No, I don’t care.  You know that’s not it.”

 

“Then what?”  Dean looked into Sam’s eyes and found them full of honest questioning and not lust.

 

A heavy sigh pushed from the older man’s full lips.  “There’s so many reasons, Sam.  I’m an adult, and you’re-“

 

Sam cut him off, “That’s bullshit.  You’re only four years older than me.  I’m sixteen, not six, so don’t tell me I’m a child.”

 

“I’m your teacher.  And a priest – I took vows.”

 

Sam cut in again before he could continue, “I know you well enough by now to know you’re not exactly a by-the-book kind of priest, _Dean_.” 

 

Dean ignored the shiver that went up his spine at Sam using his first name, and laid out the biggest argument he had.  “We’re brothers, Sam.”

 

It was Sam’s turn to sigh.  “No, we’re not.  Not really.  I know by blood you are my brother, but it’s not like we were raised together.  I haven’t known you my entire life, we’re practically strangers.”  Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Sam rushed on.  “And anyway, those stupid laws about incest are only around to stop crazy backwoods hicks from having two-headed babies.  No matter how hard you try, you’ll never knock me up, Dean.”

 

Dean smiled in spite of himself at the humor in Sam’s statement, and Sam’s posture relaxed for a moment.  “I’m sorry Sam, but I just can’t do that to you.  It’s my job as a priest, as your teacher, and as your _big brother_ to protect you.  Take care of you.  I won’t hurt you like that, even if you can’t understand what it could do to you.”  Dean met Sam’s eyes and held a firm gaze.

 

Sam huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes.  He stood and threw his napkin on the table, grabbing his jacket and shoving his arms into it.  “Whatever.  Let’s just go.  Not hungry anymore anyway.”  Without waiting for an answer Sam left the restaurant and Dean stopped to pay the check before following him out.  They rode back to the school in silence, Sam staring out the passenger window at the passing snowy landscape.

*        *        *        *        *

Sam lay on the top bunk over his bed staring at the ceiling.  He had managed to avoid Father Winchester since the day they had lunch at the diner in town, but holiday break was over, all the students had returned, and classes were to begin again the next day.  He closed his eyes and threw his arms over his face.

 

There was so much going through his mind that it was hard to grasp a single thought long enough to work it through.  He had received several messages from Pastor Jim that John Winchester had called, John’s number scrawled across the bottom of the notes signaling John’s wish for Sam to call him.  Sam had no intention of calling that man.  Just because he’d donated his DNA didn’t make him a father.  A father would never have abandoned him and then stood idly by as he was passed from one rejecting, distant relative to the next.

 

His thoughts about Father Winchester were even more of a jumble.  He wasn’t even sure if he should be thinking of him as his teacher, Father Winchester, or as his brother, Dean.  He found it difficult to think of someone he barely knew in the role that only Christian had ever filled.  But he could not deny that he felt an unexplainable and deep connection to Dean.  He also could not deny that a part of that connection was physical; the older man was gorgeous, probably the most attractive man Sam had ever seen.  And brother or not, Sam still wanted him.

 

All his endeavors to entice Father Winchester had not gotten him very far.  It was obvious that the priest was attracted to Sam; despite Dean’s attempts to hide his reactions, Sam had seen the heat in those verdant eyes and on a few occasions the bulge in his black pants.  Sam sighed contentedly as the familiar warmth spread beneath his skin at the thought of Father Winchester heated and hard.  He allowed himself to indulge in reliving the first time he’d seen Dean, freckled skin damp with only a towel to cover him.  His hand rubbed over his growing erection as he remembered the stolen glances of Dean’s ass.

 

Sam unzipped his jeans and reached into his underwear to wrap his hand around his cock.  He stroked the shaft as he thought about the rippled muscles in Father Winchesters back, moaned as his thumb pressed into his slit and he imagined kissing his way down the freckles to the dip at the base of his spine.  His hand twisted around the head of his cock and he could feel his orgasm building as he pulled the towel from fantasy-Dean’s waist.  Sam brought his other hand down to caress his balls, then stretched his long middle finger back to press into the spot behind.  He came on the image of sliding his cock between the wet cheeks of Father Winchester’s incredible ass.

 

“Fuck,” he cursed to himself.  He was going to have to up his game, because he couldn’t live on fantasies much longer.

*        *        *        *        *

Though none of the boys came to the school devoutly religious, many had been raised with some sort of religion and often benefitted from the familiarity of the routine.  It also never hurt to provide the boys with any option that might bring them peace or discipline.  So every Sunday Father Winchester and Pastor Jim took turns leading a service, and this week the young priest was leading a Catholic Mass and Communion.  The boys formed a line up the middle of the aisle, each taking their turn to cross themselves, kneel, and receive the wafer and wine.  A few chose to refrain, and Father Winchester never forced anyone, just asked that they wait quietly and respectfully in their seats.

 

The formality of communion service always made Dean a little tense, but today his muscles were bunched a bit tighter than usual, and the reason was staring him down as he made his way up the queue.  Sam’s ever-changing eyes were heated and honed in on every move Father Winchester made as he blessed each young man in front of him.  Dean tried to keep his focus on the student in front of him, but his gaze was unerringly pulled to the intensity of Sam’s attention.  

 

It seemed every time he did look at his younger brother, Sam was wearing a new expression of lust.  As Father Winchester placed the wafer on Michael’s tongue, his green eyes wandered up to find Sam watching him intently with his bottom lip pinched between white teeth.  As soon as Sam realized he had Dean’s attention, his eyes traveled from Dean’s face, down his body slowly and full of such heat Dean swore it caused sweat to bead on his forehead.  Two students later, the next look up found hooded eyes staring unapologetically at Father Winchester’s groin as Sam himself seemed to hunch in a failed attempt to hide the fact that he was half-hard.  Dean swallowed a lump trying to bring saliva back to his mouth as he blessed Jonathon and sent him back to his seat.

 

Father Winchester refused to look up from the faces in front of him after that, though he knew with each student he sent back to his seat, he was closer to having Sam kneel in front of him.  Dean managed to get through the rest of the students without looking at Sam again, but his heart raced as he realized there was no one else left but his brother in the line.  He looked up and right into hazel eyes with pupils blown wide and felt the breath leave his lungs.  Sam had waited until last, so everyone else was back in their seats and there was no one left to witness Father Winchester’s torment as Sam knelt in front of him.

 

The young man looked down as he knelt and crossed himself, and Dean watched as Sam raised his head slowly, licking his lips as his chin reached groin level.  At the small sound of Father Winchester’s intake of breath, Sam looked up through his lashes at the priest.  His slick pink tongue traced out slowly over teeth and lip and curled slightly on the sides and though Father Winchester knew the boy’s wicked intent, he could not stop the image of his own dick making a path through the moist heat of that muscle right into Sam’s mouth.  His blood heated and coursed straight for his cock so quickly he felt light-headed.

 

When Dean froze, failing to place the wafer on Sam’s tongue, the young man raised an eyebrow and said, “Well, Father, aren’t you going to give it to me?”  He paused, grinning lasciviously and then added.  “The wafer?”  Dean had to bite the inside of his mouth to hold back the moan that wanted to escape his mouth and he was grateful for the communion robe that concealed his rock-hard cock.

 

He stumbled out a blessing as he placed the thin wafer on Sam’s waiting tongue, and before he could pull back Sam closed his mouth and wrapped that hot wet tongue around Father Winchester’s finger.  Dean was stunned, and in the moment it took his brain to tell his finger to pull out of the boy’s mouth, Sam suckled it, causing a curse to slip from the priest’s mouth under his breath as he fought to stop himself from spraying the inside of his robe with his release.

 

That crooked smirk of a grin appeared on Sam’s mouth as he stood and returned to his seat in the front pew.  He made no attempt to hide the erection that bulged behind his fly, and Father Winchester closed his eyes as he attempted to gather his thoughts back to coherency.  He was infinitely grateful they had done communion at the end of the service this week, and he dismissed the students and quickly made his way to the small office behind the church’s main sanctuary.

 

He closed and locked the door behind him, throwing open his robe and pulling his aching prick from his boxer briefs.  A part of his brain not completely lost to the raging want and need coursing through him knew this was sinfully wrong, but he could not stop himself.  He wrapped his hand around the steel hard length and stroked himself quick and dirty.  The spectacle Sam had presented burned into the back of his eyelids and it only took a few strokes before his orgasm overtook him and he collapsed to his knees trying to catch his breath.

 

Father Winchester pulled tissues from the box on the desk and swiped at the mess on his hands and the floor in front of him.  He tossed the used tissues into the bin and dropped his head into his hands.  Dean could not remember the last time he’d felt so lost.

*        *        *        *        *

John rubbed his bleary eyes and then forced them to refocus on the road in front of him.  After six weeks of unanswered calls to Dean’s cell and unreturned messages to Sam through Pastor Jim, John had realized if he wanted to speak to either of his sons, he would need to do so in person.  It was another five weeks before he could get away from the hunt which led to another which led to another before the leads to Mary’s killer hit yet another dead end.

 

Now it was nearly March and he was crossing the border into Minnesota for the final leg of the journey to Blue Earth.  The familiar mix of excitement at nearing his son and the dread of a possible negative reaction curled in his gut and made his throat itch for a shot of Jack.  This time the apprehension of the reaction of not just one son but two was strong enough that a good part of him wished he’d found one more lead to buy just a little more time.  As he turned up the long driveway, John shook his head at how ridiculous he was being.  He’d faced werewolves and demons, surely he could face his two boys.

 

He put the truck into park and turned off the engine, but his feet weren’t ready for the last few steps of this journey yet, so he sat in the cab of his truck and stared through the darkness at Pastor Jim’s church.

 

Jim looked out the window of his kitchen at the driveway between his small house and the church.  He saw John Winchester’s old black truck parked there and the tense figure of the man sitting behind the wheel.  He wasn’t surprised that John had shown up unannounced, he was just disappointed that it had taken so many weeks of failed phone calls before he finally attempted to reach out to his sons another way.  Jim picked up the phone and dialed Dean’s number.

 

Dean was sure he’d heard the familiar growl of John’s truck outside, and when the caller ID on his phone revealed Pastor Jim’s number, he knew before he picked up what the old man would say.  He pushed the button to answer and brought the phone to his ear.

 

“Dean, your father’s here.  Go up to the farmhouse and get Sam.  We’ll meet you back here in my kitchen.”

 

Dean drew a reluctant breath, but before he could speak, Pastor Jim added, “I know, son.  You’re both still working through all this, and you’ve every right to your time and space.  But maybe John just needs to hear that.”  Jim paused.  “And he may have made mistakes, but he does love you, Dean.  In his way.”

 

There was silence on the line and then Dean said, “I’ll get Sam.  Give us a few minutes.”  Dean hung up and watched out the window, waiting until John had gone inside the house before heading up the hill to the farmhouse.  He found Sam in the kitchen, doing dishes from the evening’s meal.  He grabbed a towel and joined Sam at the sink.

 

Sam glanced sideways when he felt the heat of another body next to him.  It was Father Winchester.  He smiled to himself.

 

“What are you doing here?”  Sam asked as he rinsed a plate and handed it over.

 

Dean took the plate.  “I’m here to bring you down to Pastor Jim’s house.”

 

Sam’s movements halted for a moment.  He wasn’t sure why he’d be called to the Pastor’s house, but he couldn’t imagine any good reason.  “Why?”

 

Dean took a moment to weigh the decision of withholding the truth from his little brother.  “Dad’s here.  Just showed up, is my guess.”

 

Sam shoved his hands back into the dishwater.  “I have nothing to say to him.”

 

“Then don’t say anything.  Sam, I don’t really want to talk to him either.  I’m not exactly ready to hug the guy and make nice yet.  Pastor Jim made a good point though; maybe we just need to tell him that.  To his face, that we’re not ready.  That he needs to back off until we are.”

 

Sam breathed in sharply through his nose.  “Fine.  Let’s go.”

 

Fifteen minutes later Jim was looking at three silent Winchesters at his table.  He looked from John to Dean to Sam, each man more stubborn than the last and he knew they were going to need a push.  “John, I don’t suppose you drove all this way for my coffee.”

 

John raised an eyebrow. “No, Jim.  I came to see my boys.  Seems phone calls weren’t the way to go.”

 

Sam pushed back from the table; he sat back in his chair folding his arms and rolling his eyes as he huffed out an angry breath.

 

Dean spoke up, “I don’t think they were.  In fact, I think maybe you should have been here months ago to tell us yourself.”

 

John took a breath to stop his initial defensive response, “You’re right.  I should have told you myself.  But I couldn’t get here sooner, and Jim didn’t think you should have to wait.”

 

“Really?!”  Sam stood from his chair.  “You couldn’t find time in the last _sixteen years_ to drop by?  Maybe after the first family you dumped me with gave up?  Or the second?  Or maybe when the fourth sent me away?  At the _very_ least maybe you could have mentioned it when you picked me up _yourself_ , drove me halfway across the country and dumped me _again_?”

 

“Sam-“ Jim stepped in to put a calming hand on the boy’s shoulder, but Sam immediately shook it off.

 

“No!  I’m done.”  He looked down at John. “I didn’t need you for the first 16 years of my life, I don’t need you now.”  Sam turned from the table and walked out the kitchen door.  Dean immediately stood and followed his brother out, calling after him.

 

Sam’s long legs had carried him halfway down the driveway before Dean caught up to him.  When Sam didn’t stop, Dean wrapped a hand around his wrist and planted his feet.  Sam spun and Dean was met with hazel eyes wet and about to spill over into tears.  “Just leave me alone, Father.  Please.”

 

“Ok, Sammy.”  Dean answered.  “But, when you’re ready to talk, I’m here for you.  For whatever.”

 

Sam hadn’t heard that nickname since Christian.  A few people had tried to use it, but it never felt right, in fact it irritated the crap out of him.  Somehow, coming out of Dean’s mouth, it felt right.  So instead of correcting him, Sam answered only with a small nod and then Dean let him go to return to the farmhouse.  

 

Dean turned to find John standing in the doorway.  “I wish you hadn’t let him go.”

 

“He’s not ready for this and it’s time somebody put him first.”

 

“You don’t think I put him first?”  John asked, unable to stop his voice from rising.  “His needs?  Your needs?  Before mine.”

 

“No.  No, I don’t.  What comes first to you, what’s _always_ come first, is the Hunt.  I think you did the thing that was best for Sam but kept you in the quest for revenge.”  Dean paused.  Over the years he’d had plenty of time to think about John’s shortcomings, and though he’d gone through his own anger about John’s lack of parenting skills, he’d never voiced any of it.  “I made my peace with what a crap excuse for a dad you’ve been years ago.  But I had Jim. Sam…Sam had nobody.  That kid’s been shoved from one person to the next his whole life.  Just go back to your hunt.  I’ll take of Sammy.”

 

Dean had seen a lot of John Winchester’s expressions over the years, but the one he wore now was new, and though he was wholly unfamiliar with it, he recognized the pain etched across the gruff countenance.  Dean sighed and scrubbed his hand down his face.  “Look, I’m not saying never, Dad.  But not now.  Clearly Sam is not ready and…and I don’t think I am either.  Just…just give us some time.  Some space.  You owe it to us – to him – to let him work through this in his own time.  Jim and I will be here for him.  You go.”

 

John dropped his head, staring at the ground near Dean’s feet.  When he looked up he nodded at his eldest, “Alright, Son.  If time is what you need, I can give you that.  You call me when you’re ready…or if either of you boys needs anything.”  

 

“Thanks, Dad.”

 

John walked past Dean to his truck, clapping a hand on Dean’s shoulder as he passed.  He had his hand on the door handle when Dean’s voice stopped him.  “You drove all this way.  Spend the night with Jim, get some rest.”  John nodded in relief, grabbed his bag out of the back, and went back into Jim’s house.

 

 

 

[ Chapter 5 ](http://deansdirtybb.livejournal.com/17446.html)


	6. Faith, Love, and Sin - Chapter 5

** Chapter 5 **

Dean was surprised the next day when he went to Pastor Jim’s and found that his father had indeed left early that morning.  He was even more surprised when months went by without John trying to call or otherwise insert himself into Sam’s or Dean’s life; it appeared John Winchester was going to respect his sons’ wishes.  Dean was relieved, though to be honest he mostly used the time to avoid the issue, still not ready to process the epic level of dishonesty his father was capable of or the fact that his brother had lived an entire life separate from his real family.

 

Sam was more upset by John’s visit than he would admit, and, faced with emotions too big for him to process, he returned to the behavior that had landed him in Father Winchester and Pastor Jim’s reform school.  His grades slipped even further and he was actually in danger of failing two of his classes simply because he refused to complete assignments.  He’d been caught drinking by Pastor Jim, and in a few compromising situations by Father Winchester.  

 

Dean went to the farmhouse to review the chore list and check in with the boys, and he intended to check on Sam while there as well.  The young man had, for the most part, been avoiding Father Winchester ever since their dad had visited, although he had still managed to get in plenty of lewd stares and innuendo-filled comments which Dean found increasingly difficult to ignore.  

 

Father Winchester found the kitchen clean, garbage taken out and the other chores from the list completed.  Though he did notice Sam’s task of vacuuming seemed to have been skipped.  He climbed the stairs to the second floor and made his way  down the hall towards Sam’s room.  Sounds that left little to the imagination stopped him outside Trevor and Jonathon’s door.  Dean was torn between knocking to announce his presence and just opening the door to catch the offenders in the act.  He couldn’t say why he chose to do it, but he turned the knob and opened the door.

 

The sight before him drained all the blood from his face and sent it coursing hotly through his veins to settle in his groin.  Trevor’s pants were pulled open and his legs were splayed wide; Sam knelt between them, face buried in Trevor’s lap.  Father Winchester could not look away and he watched as Sam’s lips stretched over Trevor’s dick, and the sounds Dean had heard from the hallway, low moans and needy whines, they were coming from _Sam_.  The kid was a mess, and he clearly loved what he was doing.  Sam’s cheeks hollowed and it must have sent Trevor over the edge; Dean couldn’t stop the noise that escaped him as he watched Sam swallow.  

 

Sam must have heard something and he turned toward the door.  Father Winchester’s cock jumped at what he saw.  Sam’s lips were swollen and red, a string of saliva and come hung suspended between the other boy’s dick and Sam’s mouth, and then snapped, leaving a trail down Sam’s chin.  His eyes were lust-blown, pupil expanding over hazel iris, and Dean realized Sam must have been stroking himself as his eyes fell on Sam’s long fingers wrapped around a cock so hard the head was cherry red.

 

“Father Winchester,” Sam breathed out, and heaven help him the sound of his name on those puffy abused lips was more than he could take.  Dean swallowed hard and forced his eyes closed.

 

Trevor’s voice broke through, “Father Winchester, we didn’t mean… I mean, we-“

 

Dean cut him off.  “You boys get dressed and meet me in the office.  Immediately.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Sam replied and Dean’s traitorous dick twitched at that.  He was biting the inside of his cheek hard when he turned and walked away.

 

Sam grinned at the retreating back of his teacher.  He could not have planned that better.  He’d seen the hard line of Father Winchester’s prick and he knew the image of Sam on his knees with a mouth full of cock would not be one the priest would soon be able to forget.

*        *        *        *        *

Dean hadn’t believed Sam when he’d confessed that the incident with Trevor was entirely his fault, that he had pushed the other boy into it, but Pastor Jim allowed Sam to accept the punishment for both of them.  He was sentenced to eight weeks of stall-mucking duty, which meant that today, on his 17th birthday, he had to complete his chore before everyone would celebrate with a special dinner and a cake.

 

Father Winchester and Pastor Jim took turns supervising the task and today it fell to Dean.  It was unseasonably warm for early May and the young man was sweating as he worked.  Dean watched the muscles play under the tight jeans as Sam bent to fill his shovel.  He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about his brother this way, but he was completely absorbed in the vision of muscle and sweat before him.  Sam swiped an arm over his brow to clear the sweat before it fell into his eyes.  The worn t-shirt clung to his back with perspiration and after a few more passes back and forth in and out of the stalls, Sam gripped the hem and pulled it over his head.

 

Dean swallowed the sudden excess saliva he found in his mouth.  Sam had come to the school already tall, but he continued to grow and now had a good inch on Dean.  His muscles had filled out with the work and required physical training Jim and Dean put the boys through, and now Father Winchester was admiring a back rippling with muscles.  When Sam turned, Dean watched the sweat run through the valley between hard pecs and over the ridges of a well-sculpted six-pack.

 

Father Winchester allowed himself to watch the decidedly masculine cut of muscles on display before him for only a few more minutes before tearing his eyes away.  He trusted Sam to complete the chore, and he would need some time to cleanse his thoughts before the birthday party.

 

Sam smiled to himself when he heard the fading steps of Father Winchester leaving the barn.  If there was something to enjoy about his bullshit punishment, it was all the opportunities it had afforded him to perform for the object of his desire.  And the teen was pretty sure Dean was about to crack.

*        *        *        *        *

Dean stood in the doorway of Sam’s bedroom, having just caught the youth in another compromising position.  Sam was naked on his knees, pink lips stretched around another cock.  When he felt the priest’s eyes on him, he turned to face Dean, lips swollen and wet and he started crawling toward the older man.  Dean palmed his hardening cock as he watched the play of muscles in the young man’s back and the perfect globes of a taut ass.

 

Sam stopped in front of him, watching Dean’s face as his long fingers worked open the black pants of his priest uniform.  The teenager licked his engorged lips as Dean’s hard cock sprung free.  Dean moaned in aching relief and blissful torture as that hot mouth engulfed his throbbing prick.  Sam worked him perfectly, tongue teasing the ridge around the head and pressing into the sensitive slit.  Much too quickly, Dean was calling out as he came into his little brother’s willing mouth.

 

Dean woke calling Sam’s name, and he sat straight up in his bed.  He heaved breaths as he tried to calm his racing heart.  As his heart rate and breathing returned to normal, Dean became aware of the sticky mess in his underwear.  He dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his temples.  Father Winchester was in trouble and it was only getting worse.   


*        *        *        *        *

His birthday seemed to have a profound effect on Sam.  Initially Father Winchester was glad to have a break from the acting out, which had reached an unbearable level of intensity.  The flirting with Dean had continued, as did the lewd acts with his peers.  Sam was careful not to actually get caught again, but that didn’t stop him from ensuring Dean had ample cause to be suspicious about what the young man might be up to.  

 

After the modest party, Jim, Dean and the other boys had thrown for Sam, he became uncharacteristically withdrawn and quiet.  In fact, the utter lack of behavior, good or bad, left Father Winchester worried about his brother but with no excuse to pull the young man aside.  He watched Sam for an entire week and was fairly certain the boy hadn’t said a word to anyone.  Sam returned to completing the minimum school work to get by without attracting attention, and did his assigned chores every day.

 

Concern if not curiosity finally got the better of the young priest and he found himself outside Sam’s door.  Sam’s punishment had ended, and it was Matthew’s day for cleaning out the stables, so Dean knew his brother’s roommate wouldn’t be around.  He knocked on the door and waited for Sam’s ok before he entered.  He found Sam sitting on the bottom bunk, and he pulled the desk chair over to sit facing his brother.

 

“What?”  Sam asked before Dean could say anything.  “Am I in trouble or something?”

 

“No, you’re not in trouble, Sam.”

 

“Well, then what do you want?”

 

“I’m worried about you.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes.  “Please.  Spare me the concerned big brother act…or concerned teacher.  Whatever this is, I don’t need it.  I’m fine.”

 

“Are you?”  When Sam looked away instead of answering, Father Winchester pushed on.  “I don’t think you are, Sam.  I don’t think you have been for a long time.  All this…the expulsions, the drinking, the sexual behavior, has to come from somewhere.”  Sam remained silent, though a smirk did slip out at Father Winchester’s mention of sex.  “But now, well…I’m more worried now that you’re not getting into trouble.”  Sam raised an eyebrow at that.  “When was the last time you actually spoke to anyone?” Dean asked.

 

Sam shrugged.  “Don’t have much to say, I guess.” 

 

“Ok.  But if you did, you know, have something to say…you know you can talk to me right?”  Sam huffed out a breath.  “You don’t think you can?” Dean asked.

 

“Not really.”

 

“Sam – “

 

“No, don’t bother.  I don’t know if you want to come off as the caring big brother or as the teacher with the big heart…but I have no interest in playing the wounded student or the kid brother for you.”  Sam muttered the last sentence and Dean almost missed it.  “Just leave me alone…that oughta be easy for you.”  

 

“What?”

 

“Ya wanna know what’s really bothering me, _brother_?”  Dean figured the kid had something going on in his head, but he still wasn’t quite prepared for the anger in Sam’s raised voice.

 

“I really do, Sam.”

 

“Fine!”  Sam pushed past Dean to come off the bed and stand over him.  “Dad left me.  He left me!  The family that raised me was a lie.  They tossed me aside when things got too rough…so did the next and the next…until _everyone_ gave up on me.  So then John comes back – just to ditch me again!  All he’s ever done is throw me away.”

 

“Sammy, Dad was…he was just completely messed up.”  Dean said gently.  It wasn’t that he wanted to defend John, but he thought maybe an explanation would help Sam cope.  “He just watched the love of his life die, burned up right in front of him and was helpless to stop it.  He tried…he just couldn’t handle a baby.  He couldn’t handle anything.”

 

“Bullshit!” Sam shouted.  The curse would normally have brought a reprimand from Father Winchester, but now that Dean had gotten his brother talking he had no desire to do anything that might stop him from expressing himself.  Suddenly Sam sat heavily on the other bed, as if all the fight had left him.  “He didn’t want me.  _You_ didn’t want me.”  Sam’s head dropped into his hands.

 

Dean’s heart broke with those words; they couldn’t be further from the truth.  “Oh, Sammy, no.  No, that’s not true.  I thought you were dead.”  Sam’s shoulders began to shake and Dean heard the trembling breath and muffled sounds of crying.  He crossed the room in two steps and wrapped his arms around Sam, pulling his little brother’s body tight against his own as he sat them both on the bed.  Sam sobbed into his shoulder and Dean stroked his back and hair, shushing him gently.  “I never would have left you with them if I had known, Sam.  I’m so sorry,” he whispered into the warm chestnut locks over Sam’s temple.

 

“Dean,” Sam whispered, pulling back to look into Dean’s soft green eyes.  Dean looked back into the churning depths of Sam’s hazel gaze, and then Sam leaned forward, slotting his lips over his brother’s.  

 

Dean’s lips were so soft and warm, and for a second, everything that had felt so twisted and broken and wrong to Sam felt right.  Something sparked along Sam’s skin, traveled up his spine and settled in his heart.  His hands curled around the collar of Father Winchester’s shirt and he tilted his face in an attempt to get closer to Dean, deeper into the kiss.  But then, Dean pulled back.

 

Sam was met with wide, lust-darkened green eyes.  “I c-can’t.  Sam.  This is…wrong, I’m sorry.  I just can’t.”  Dean stepped back and shared one more look with his brother before turning and leaving the room.

 

Sam watched Dean leave and touched his fingers to his own lips that still tingled from the kiss.  He’d been wrong, this entire time, he had been so wrong.  Father Winchester wasn’t just some piece of tail, a good time to chase.  This was a real connection, there were real emotions here.  Sam was in love with Dean…and he knew Dean must feel the same.  There was no way to share a kiss like that without it.  Now he just had to get Dean to admit to what Sam knew to be true.

 

Dean closed the door to Sam’s room behind him and stood there.  His fingers brushed over his lips.  He should never, never have allowed that to happen, for so many reasons, all the reasons he’d gone over and over with Sam.  There were so many ways it was wrong.  But that kiss felt…right.  Father Winchester shook his head to stop that train of thought and went to the chapel to pray for guidance.   


  
*        *        *        *        *   


That night Caleb called needing help with a hunt two states over, and Dean had never been more grateful to leave Blue Earth.  He was gone for eleven days, and he’d thought the separation from Sam would clear his head, or at least give him a break from the stress of the growing feelings for the young man that Dean could no longer deny.

 

What actually happened was that, while he was able to lose himself in the hunt, he didn’t end up with as much of a reprieve as he’d hoped.  For every hour he spent actively hunting, he spent 3 alone in his room, trying to sleep, or research, or do anything besides think about Sam and his lips and that kiss.  And no matter how much time he spent going over everything in his head, he still had no idea what to do.  

 

He considered leaving, taking a sabbatical to concentrate on hunting.  If he wasn’t there, Sam couldn’t continue his advances…and Dean wouldn’t continue to be tempted by them.  It seemed like the easiest solution, but Dean simply could not do that to his brother.  He couldn’t abandon him just like everyone else who was supposed to be family had done.  Father Winchester turned the issue over and over in his mind and got nowhere; in the end the best he could do was renew his resolve to maintain appropriate boundaries.  He started with confession in the local church to purge his mind and heart of his own inappropriate thoughts.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Sam was initially angry when he found out Dean had left the school; according to Pastor Jim Father Winchester had gone out “on a mission” and would return to the school in a couple of weeks.  In the meantime the older man took over all teaching and other school duties.  As soon as Sam heard that Dean would definitely be returning, his anger lifted.  His brother hadn’t abandoned him; he’d be back.

 

With time away from the distraction of his attraction to Dean, Sam started to think about his behavior, and for the first time in years he felt bad about it.  He considered what it was doing to Father Winchester to be put in the situation of being tempted by a student, by his brother.  While Sam was by no means ready to give up on things with Dean, he no longer felt seducing the priest was the way to go about it.  He decided to buckle down to his studies, hoping it wouldn’t be too late to turn things around, and when Pastor Jim asked for volunteers to repaint the barn, Sam was the second boy to raise his hand.  He smiled as he thought about Dean’s reaction to his little brother turning over a new leaf.

  
*        *        *        *        *   


 

Dean and Caleb were wrapping up the hunt, and Dean was headed back to his motel room when his phone rang.  Seeing Pastor Jim’s number on the screen he quickly clicked the button to accept the call.

 

“Dean?”

 

“Yeah, Pastor, what’s up?  Boys driving you nuts?” Dean asked with a chuckle.

 

“No.  I think you need to come back.”

 

Dean’s blood turned to ice.  “What’s wrong?”

 

“It’s Sam.”  Pastor Jim stopped to take a ragged breath.  “Son, there’s been an accident.”

 

 

 

[ Chapter 6 ](http://deansdirtybb.livejournal.com/17892.html)


	7. Faith, Love, and Sin - Chapter 6

** Chapter 6 **

Though Dean made the trip back to Blue Earth in less than half the time he’d made the trip away, Sam had still already been in the hospital for close to twelve hours by the time he got there.  He made at least a dozen calls to Pastor Jim, and all he knew for sure was that Sam was alive, but hadn’t regained consciousness since the accident.  

 

He reached St. James Medical Center and turned the corner into the parking lot so quickly he was fairly certain two of the Impala’s tires left the ground.  As much as he wanted to run full speed to his brother, Father Winchester managed to force himself into a very fast walk after he stopped at the information desk and got Sam’s room number and directions.  

 

When he at last stood before his brother and saw with his own eyes the rise and fall of Sam’s chest, Dean was finally able to let out the breath he’d been holding since Pastor Jim’s phone call.  Dean took in the IV inserted into Sam’s arm and the oxygen tubing in his nostrils and all the wires connecting him to the monitors.  When Dean’s gaze reached the ropes and weights of traction attached to both of Sam’s legs with metal pins, the fatigue of the trip and the all-consuming panic he’d felt settled into his knees forcing him to sit.  He pulled the chair from the corner of the room closer to Sam’s bed.  

 

“Can’t lose you again, Sammy.  Just got you back,” he whispered.  His eyes burned and he realized his cheeks were wet with tears.  Dean wiped the back of his hand over his eyes and bowed his head, saying every prayer he’d ever learned and begging God to let him keep his little brother.

 

A gentle knock on the casing of the open door interrupted him and he looked up to see the caring face of Pastor Jim.  He stood from his chair and let himself be wrapped in a hug drawing the strength and love the older man readily offered.  “Jim, what happened?”

 

“Sam volunteered to help repaint the barn, and we were about halfway through the second wall.  He climbed up the ladder and as he reached for the paint bucket, the rung just snapped.  He fell-“ Pastor Jim’s voice cracked and he paused to take a steadying breath.  “He fell 15 feet, Dean.”

 

Dean’s green eyes widened and his mouth fell open.  His brain couldn’t even process the information quickly enough to form a question.

 

“It was an old ladder.  I’m sorry, Dean, should have replaced it last year.  I’m so sorry.” 

 

Dean placed a reassuring hand on Pastor Jim’s shoulder.  “It’s alright.  This isn’t your fault, Jim.  It was an accident.”  Dean drew a slow deep breath and dug for the courage to ask the harder question.  “What are his…?  What’s wro-“

 

Jim didn’t force him to look for the words to finish his query.  “He broke both his legs, one is a pretty bad comminuted fracture – basically it was broken in several places.  The other, they call it an open fracture – the bone came through the skin, so after they set it, they had to stitch him up.  He’s getting IV antibiotics to prevent an infection.  He’s in traction to get the bones back into position, and then he’ll have surgery to place screws and plates to hold everything in place for healing.”

 

Dean ran a hand nervously through his hair.  “Will he be able to walk again?”

 

Pastor Jim nodded.  “Yes, he’ll need extensive physical therapy, and they say he may have a limp, but they don’t see any reason he won’t be able to walk.  But, Dean…”

 

Dean’s gaze had fallen on his brother, taking comfort again in the steady rise and fall that came with each breath, but when Jim stopped speaking Dean looked up at him again.

 

“Dean, he hit his head on the way down and he has a pretty bad concussion.  He’s been unconscious since the fall.  His scan looks clear, but they won’t know for sure about any brain damage until he wakes up.”

 

“But he is gonna wake up?”  When Jim didn’t answer immediately Dean grabbed him by his arms and shook him.  “Isn’t he?”

 

“They, they say they see no reason for him not to.  But for now, we just have to wait.”

 

Dean said nothing for a full minute, just looked from Sam to Jim and back again before pulling his chair back up to Sam’s bed and sitting down.  “If the only thing I can do is wait, I’m waiting right here.”

 

Pastor Jim thought about suggesting that Dean go home, get a shower and rest himself before settling in with Sam, but he could already see how futile that would be.  “Okay, son.  Is there anything I can get you?”  Dean shook his head.  “Alright, since you are here with Sam, I am going to go home, keep an eye on the rest of the boys.  I’ll be back in the morning, with a change of clothes for you.”  He indicated Dean’s travel stained garments and Dean gave him a weak smile in return.  “You let me know if you need anything else.”  He squeezed Dean’s shoulder once and patted him on the back before leaving.

 

Once Pastor Jim left, Dean leaned forward in his chair again.  His hand drifted forward and hovered over Sam’s.  He hesitated for a moment, considering boundaries and duty, but in the end he wrapped his hand around Sam’s slender fingers.  He rested his head against the raised side rail of the bed and that’s how he fell asleep.

*        *        *        *        *

Sam remained unconscious for an additional 39 hours, and Dean was there for every minute.  Pastor Jim tried everything short of dragging the young priest out by his ear, but Dean refused to leave.  He was convinced to take a quick shower and change as long as Jim swore to get him the second Sam showed any sign of waking.

 

Dean was sitting at Sam’s side when his eyelids began to flutter and his lips twitched.  A small sound in Sam’s throat caught Dean’s attention and he watched as the young man’s brow creased slightly, and saw the tremors along the delicate muscles around his eyes.

 

“Sammy?”  He asked in a whispered plea.  The covers of the hazel eyes Dean had been missing, scrunched tight and then slowly, incrementally lifted.  

 

Sam blinked carefully a few times, and then surprise seemed to register in those ever-changing orbs.  He opened his mouth to speak, but only a hoarse croak emerged.  He licked his lips, swallowed and tried again.  “Father Winchester?”

 

“I’m here, Sammy.  I’m here.”

 

Sam frowned and started to speak again, but this time it ended in a cough and Dean reached for the water on the bedside table and helped Sam drink from it.  “Why are you here?” Sam asked once his throat was moistened.

 

Now Dean frowned, “Why wouldn’t I be here?  Sam, you…do you know where you are?”

 

Sam’s brow furrowed and his head tilted, and then for the first time he looked around the room, taking in the monitors and IV pole…and finally the scaffolding, ropes and pulleys of the traction.  

 

“A hospital?”  

 

It was clearly more question than answer and Father Winchester took a deep breath to quell the fear that crept through his veins as the words _brain damage_ whispered around the back of his mind.  “Yes, you’re in the hospital.”  Dean unconsciously squeezed the hand he was still holding, and Sam immediately looked down to where they were connected.  Suddenly aware of the way the small touch crossed a line, Father Winchester loosened his grip and began to pull away, but Sam turned his hand over, wrapping those long fingers around his older brother’s hand.  When Dean looked up, a faint but sure smile rested on Sam’s dry lips.

 

“What happened?” Sam asked.

 

“There was an accident at the school.  You were-“

 

“I was painting the barn.”

 

Dean smiled, relief washing over him that Sam’s brain function seemed to be intact.  “You were, and the ladder broke.  You fell and-“ Dean cut himself off as Sam’s face twisted into a grimace of pain and he clutched at the blankets over his legs.

 

“It hurts!  Dean, hurts, so bad.  Wha – God! What happened?”

 

Seeing his brother in so much pain snapped Father Winchester into action.  He hit the call bell for the nurse, but when no one appeared immediately, he ran to the door, calling down the hallway.  “Can we get some help in here?  He’s awake, and he’s in pain!”

 

Sam’s nurse came hurrying down the hallway a minute later, vial and syringe in hand.  She pushed past Dean, smiling at Sam in the bed.  “Hey, Sam.  Nice to see your eyes, can you look right here at my nose?”  Dean watched as she shined a small light into Sam’s eyes, and listened as she asked him a few questions.  “Alright, Sam.  I’m going to give you something in your IV for the pain; you should feel much better in a few minutes.”  She drew the liquid from the vial and then pushed it into the line connected to Sam’s arm.  When the grimace started to soften from Sam’s face, Dean let out a breath.

 

“Now that you’re awake, I’m going to go get your doctor.”  The nurse smiled at Sam once more before she left.

 

Sam looked up at Father Winchester.  “I fell?”  Dean nodded.  “So, what’s wrong with me?  What’s all this?” Sam asked waving his hands at all the traction equipment.

 

Dean dropped his head and rubbed at the back of his neck.  He took a deep breath and as he opened his mouth to speak, the nurse returned with the doctor.  Dean was relieved to be off the hook.  He preferred the supportive role over having to break the news to Sam about his physical injuries and the path that lie ahead.  He sat at Sam’s bedside as the doctor introduced himself as Dr. Birch and reviewed the extent of the breaks to Sam’s legs and the implications of the concussion. 

 

“The good news is that your cognitive function seems to be intact, which means there is likely going to be little chance of long term complications from the concussion.”  Dr. Birch paused, his tone just a little more somber as he continued.  “The fractures to your legs will require an extensive recovery I’m afraid, Sam.  The open fracture of the right should heal without complications.  Even though it looks pretty nasty, it was a clean break and it set easily.  The other leg, though, there was a lot of damage to the bone.  We’ll perform surgery, put in some hardware to hold the bones in place until they heal.”

 

At the mention of surgery, Sam’s hand reached for Dean’s again and Dean allowed the touch.  He hadn’t forgotten all the reasons he shouldn’t allow physical contact, but the near-loss of his brother had put things in a whole new perspective. 

 

Sam’s eyes were wide and Dean could read the tension in his muscles.  “What does that mean?  How am I gonna walk with two broken legs?”  Sam stopped and his eyes grew terrified.  “I will walk again, won’t I?”  Dean squeezed Sam’s hand.

 

“I’m going to be honest.  A lot of that depends on you, Sam.  You will need a lot of physical therapy, but if you put in the work, do the exercises, there is absolutely no reason you won’t walk again.  It may be with crutches or a cane for a bit, but you’re young and strong, with support I know you can do this.”

 

Father Winchester looked at Sam, whose face seemed paler than it had a few minutes ago.  “He can,” Dean said.  “He’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever known.”  Sam’s head snapped toward his older brother and his eyes relaxed when he was met with Dean’s warm emerald gaze.  Dean smiled at his brother and added, “The kid’s got a determination to do whatever he puts his mind to.  And he’s got my support however he needs it.”  

 

Sam blushed and ducked his head.  He was more used to insults and castigations than compliments.  The sincerity in Dean’s tone went straight to that place in his chest that had ached in the most pleasant way since the day they kissed.  His brother’s belief in him also made him want to not only face what was ahead of him, but beat it.  Sam looked back up at the doctor.  “When is the surgery?”

 

“We’ll perform the first one very soon.  Probably the day after tomorrow.  The swelling has already improved and we’ll have the anesthesia and neurology teams check you over to make sure you’re clear for surgery.”

 

“First one?” Dean asked.

 

Dr. Birch smiled.  “Yes, we’ll place the hardware in the right leg.  The left leg is going to need more work, so at first we’ll place what’s called an external fixator…it looks like metal scaffolding around your leg, and it will be attached to the bones through the skin with metal pins.”  The doctor did not miss the way Sam’s eyebrows shot up.  “Like I said, Sam.  This is going to be a long road, let’s just take it one step at a time; and right now you need your rest.  I’ll be back to see you first thing in the morning.”  

 

His smile was warm and reassuring and it put Sam back at ease.  As the doctor left the room, Sam lay back against his pillows, still clutching Dean’s hand in his.  He pinched his bottom lip between his teeth as he attempted to process all the information just thrown at him without crying.

 

Father Winchester watched quietly as Sam let his mind wrap around everything Dean had been thinking about since he’d first been told about Sam’s injuries.  Sam caught the bow of his bottom lip between his teeth and Dean’s breath was suddenly hard to find.  He’d seen the teen perform that move so many times, but somehow, in this moment, when it was a genuine expression of fear and frustration and not a put-upon attempt at distracting the object of his desire, it had much greater impact.  Dean found himself clutching his free hand around his own leg to keep from reaching out to touch that pink lip.

 

“It’s gonna be okay, Sammy.”  Sam’s head turned to face him, tears gathering in the swirling hazel of his eyes.  “It’s going to be okay, and I am going to be right here with you.”  Dean couldn’t be sure what made him do it, but he brought Sam’s hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the knuckles.

 

Sam would have smiled if he hadn’t been so shocked by the warm press of those full lips to his hand.  “Thank you, Fath- Dean.  That means…it means everything.”  Sam wanted more than anything to lean over and kiss Dean’s mouth again, but he was afraid to spook Dean, so he settled for rubbing his thumb over the back of the older man’s hand.  A thought formed in his mind and though he was fully appreciative of his brother being there with him, he had to know something.  “How long have I been here?”

 

“Almost two days.  Why?”

 

“And have you been here the _whole_ time?”  Dean nodded.  “Oh, Dean.  You need to go.  You need your rest too.  It means so much to me that you’re here for me, but really, you need sleep and food, and, and…a shower and a change of clothes.”  Sam wrinkled his nose and smiled at the last.

 

“I did shower.  And change.  Pastor Jim sort of insisted.  I can’t leave you here alone, Sam.  I won’t.”

 

Sam saw the determined set of Dean’s jaw and wondered if his own looked that way when he dug his heels in like that.  “Look, I’m fine right now.  I just had my pain meds, I know what’s going on.  At least go home, eat, get a real shower, followed by clean clothes.  You can come back tonight if you want.”  Dean opened his mouth, no doubt to protest more, but Sam cut him off.  “I’ll still be here, not like I’m going anywhere.”  Sam smiled and Dean chuckled.

 

“No, I guess you’re not.  You sure?  Really sure you’ll be okay for a few hours?”  Sam nodded.  “Okay, then.”  Dean stood, but found he was reluctant to let go of Sam’s hand, and more surprisingly, he really wanted to kiss the younger man.  His urges warred with his guilt about priestly vows, teacherly duties…and incest.  His actions ended up somewhere in the middle.  He let go of Sam’s hand and leaned over the bed to hug his brother, his free hand carded through Sam’s long hair, and he felt Sam place the lightest of kisses to the stubble on his cheek.

*        *        *        *        *

Father Winchester returned a few hours later, freshly washed and shaved, dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a soft grey t-shirt.  Sam’s breath caught at the sight.  It was rare to see the priest outside his usual uniform, and it only reminded him how gorgeous his brother was.  The definition of his muscles was evident through the thin cotton and when Dean turned to set his duffel on the floor Sam saw the way the jeans hugged the curve of his ass.  Sam forced himself to look away; it would not be good to tent his hospital sheets with an ill-timed erection.

 

“Better?” Dean asked as he pulled the chair back up to Sam’s bed and sat down.

 

Sam made a show of sniffing the air.  “Much.”  

 

Dean leaned down to his bag reaching inside as he spoke.  “I thought you could use something to engage your mind.”  Sam rolled his eyes expecting a text book to emerge, but what he saw was an old Classics Illustrated comic book.  Dean held it up and Sam read the cover.  “Knights of the Round Table?”

 

Dean smiled.  “Whadya think?”

 

Sam laughed a little and nodded.  “I love Sir Galahad.”  He reached for it, but Dean yanked it back.

 

“Nope, you lay back and relax.  Gonna read it to you.”

 

Sam’s smile softened.  “Ok.”  He settled himself back into the pillows and listened to his brother read.  As he watched Dean’s face move through all the emotions of the story he was reading, Sam felt that tug at his heart again.  He was really falling for this man, and he had no idea what to do with that.  The flirting, the seducing and going big for the reaction, getting caught up in the game of the chase, that he knew how to do.  Falling in love, building an honest and true relationship?  He was completely out of his league there.  He shook off his thoughts and focused on the story of Sir Galahad’s quest for the grail.  Soon he felt his eyes begin to drift shut and he let the rise and fall of Dean’s deep voice lull him to sleep.

*        *        *        *        *

The next day, Sam was cleared for surgery, and the following day he was taken into the operating room just before 9am.  Dean walked alongside his bed until they reached the doors that separated the sterile surgery area.  Sam grabbed his hand and squeezed.  “Thanks again.”  Sam smiled up at his brother, and when he saw the worry etched into that face he added, “I’ll be right back, Dean, I promise.”

 

Those words spread like buckshot, hitting him in the gut and the heart all at once.  He’d heard that sentence from John so many times and it had always been laced with hope and doubt.  But Sam had never made that or any promise to Dean before and the genuine conviction in those slanted eyes made Dean need to believe Sam would never break his word.

 

“K, and I’ll be right here when you get back, Sammy.”  Dean leaned down and placed a kiss to Sam’s forehead and then backed up so they could push his brother through the doors.

 

Father Winchester paced the waiting room for over an hour, then let himself be convinced to go to the cafeteria for some lunch.  He pushed his food around his plate for about 20 minutes before he’d had enough and pushed away from the table.  He couldn’t go back to that waiting room, and besides all the nurses had told him Sam would go to the recovery room briefly, then be taken back to his own room.  He wandered for a bit and found himself in Sam’s hospital room, poking through the things on the bedside table and searching for his brother’s scent underneath the bleached sterile hospital smell.  When his gaze fell on the book he’d been reading to Sam, he collapsed in the chair and flipped it open in his lap.

 

“Father Winchester?”  He must have dozed off so he hadn’t seen the nurse appear in the doorway and her voice startled him.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Sam’s been brought to the recovery room.  He’s still sleeping off the anesthesia, but you can go see him now.”

 

“He’s okay?”

 

She smiled and nodded.  “He’s just fine.”

 

“Thank you.”  Relief washed over him and he stood and stretched.  A glance at his watch showed it was nearly 4pm.  “Is it really that late?”  The nurse nodded.  “Is that…is that normal?  For Sam’s kinda surgery I mean.”

 

“It’s not unusual for these orthopedic surgeries to take hours, and Sam’s break was pretty…complicated.  I’m not surprised it took so long.”

 

“Oh.  Okay.  So, which way to the recovery room?”

 

Dean followed the nurse’s directions and soon found himself standing over Sam’s bed again.  He ran a hand over the young man’s hair, and when an aide brought him a chair, he pulled it close and took Sam’s hand in his as he waited for his brother to rouse.  It was an eerie echo of how he’d spent the first days at the hospital.

 

Before long, Sam opened bleary eyes that barely seemed to see Dean.  The nurse assured Dean that it was normal for patients after surgery, and Dean waited patiently as Sam wove in and out of consciousness.  Eventually the nurse deemed him stable enough to return to his room and Dean walked alongside the bed as they pushed it down the halls. As soon as the bed and Sam were settled back into place Dean took up his position in the chair at Sam’s side once again.

 

As he watched Sam sleep, he appreciated the fact that all the traction equipment was gone.  The blanket tented oddly over Sam’s left leg, and though Dean wasn’t ready to look at it, he knew that underneath was the scaffolding thing the doctor had talked about.  On the other side of the bed, Dean could see the stark white of a plaster cast on the right leg.  Dean rested his head on the bed next to Sam’s torso, and fell asleep so quickly he didn’t even notice he’d begun to drift.

*        *        *        *        *

Sam felt like he’d been trying to struggle his way to consciousness for days, but had no way of knowing how much time had passed.  There were a blur of images running behind his closed eyes, many of them featuring Father Winchester’s beautiful face, and he was fairly sure most of them were real memories of his brother at his side after the surgery.  What finally pulled him awake was the feeling of the bed jerking beneath his side.

 

He blinked his eyes awake to find Dean sleeping with his head and arm resting on the bed next to Sam.  At first he smiled, happy that Dean had wanted to be so close to him, but as soon as he saw the way Dean’s face was twisted, his heart lurched.  His brother’s mouth was screwed up in a grimace and his brow was scrunched tight, Sam could see how Dean’s eyes twitched behind the lids and he knew his brother was dreaming.  Dean’s head moved and his arm lifted from the bed and Sam understood the feeling that had woken him.  He guessed that his brother must be having a nightmare and when grunts and moans and aborted words started leaking from Dean’s mouth Sam figured it must be a bad one.  

 

Sam placed his hand gently on Dean’s shoulder.  “Dean?”  He said quietly, moving his brother ever so slightly.  The blonde head jerked on the bed again and Dean moaned out the single word “No,” but full of such pain it hurt Sam just to hear it.   He shook Dean harder, “Dean.  Dean, please.  Time to wake up.”  Dean’s head began whipping from side to side on the bed and his arm thrashed up so quickly that Sam nearly caught it across the nose.  He ducked then shook his brother in earnest.  “Dean!  Wake up!”

 

Dean awoke, sitting up and shouting “Sammy! No!”  

 

As Dean came to full awareness, he registered Sam’s face in front of him, eyes wide and he slowly realized he’d been having the nightmare again.  His heart raced, and though he knew it wasn’t real, it was just a dream and the real fire hadn’t taken his brother, his mind was still fogged from the overwhelming emotion of the dream, so similar to the fear of loss that had set him pacing for much of the day.  He reached forward, hands framing Sam’s beautiful face, his thumb brushed over the perfect pink bow of Sam’s lower lip.  Forgetting everything but his absolute _need_ for Sam, Dean leaned forward and captured Sam’s mouth in a kiss.

 

Sam hummed in surprise for just a second, and then his hands found their way to Dean’s head, fingers pushing through the short hair as his mouth moved with Dean’s.  When Dean opened his mouth and Sam felt his tongue trace the seam of his own lips, he couldn’t stop the moan that escaped as he opened to allow his brother access.

 

The sound of Sam’s moan pulled Father Winchester back to reality.  What was he doing?  This was his student, his brother.  The thought that he should not be doing this pounded at his brain, but was quickly chased away by the sensation of Sam’s soft tongue tentatively pushing into his mouth.  And just for this moment, he didn’t care how wrong this was, he would confess tomorrow.  But now, right now, he just lost himself to kissing this boy.

 

Dean twined his tongue around Sam’s and sucked gently, drawing a second moan from Sam, whose hands pulled him closer.  Sam nipped at Dean’s full bottom lip, then sucked it into his mouth and this time the moan came from Dean’s throat.  Dean freed his lips from Sam’s teeth and slotted his mouth more tightly against his brother’s.  Their tongues found each other again and every pass of one slick muscle against the other drew each man deeper into the shared pleasure.

 

When Dean felt Sam’s hands curl into fists clutching his shirt, reality broke through again.  He couldn’t let this go any further.  Not here, not like this…and maybe not ever.  He gently pulled back from Sam’s lips, a string of mixed saliva pulled between their reddened, kiss-swollen lips and the picture Sam painted sent an ache through Dean’s blood.  “Sammy,” he whispered.

 

Sam’s hand molded to Dean’s cheek.  “ ‘m here, Dean.  Right here.  Nightmare?”  Dean nodded.  “Wanna talk about it?” Sam asked.

 

“It’s the fire.  I…I have it a lot.  Not really clear, just heat and flames…and a baby crying.”

 

“The baby was me?”  Dean nodded again.  “And I died?”  Dean looked down and nodded again.  Sam tilted Dean’s chin up again.  “I didn’t die Dean.  I’m here now.  Alive.”  He grabbed Dean’s hand and pressed it to his chest over his heart.  “See?”

 

Dean let his hand rest over Sam’s beating heart for a moment, then he carefully pulled out of Sam’s touch and sat back in his chair.  “I’m sorry, Sam.  Didn’t need to wake you like that.  You’re the one in the hospital bed.”

 

“It’s okay Dean.  I’m fine.”  Seeing that whatever spell had brought the kiss on was broken, Sam allowed a change in subject.  “Though, I wouldn’t object to the nurse bringing me some pain meds.”  Dean smiled and nodded as he pressed the call bell.

*        *        *        *        *

Days passed and neither Sam nor Dean brought up the nightmare or the kiss again.  Sam thought about it all the time, the way Den’s plush lips had felt against his, and how, for just a moment, Dean seemed to actually allow himself to experience the feelings Sam had suspected he had all along.  He longed for more of those moments, more of Dean’s touch, but somehow he knew that if he pushed, it would only damage the tenuous thread drawing them slowly together.  

 

Once Sam was stable, and the fear of losing him had eased from Dean’s chest, he began going home at night.  He returned each morning though, often before Sam was even awake.  Since Sam was stuck in the hospital, and Dean refused to have him fall behind in his schoolwork, Father Winchester brought Sam’s books and lessons to him.  

 

Sam showed a whole new commitment to his education.  It was fueled by both his pre-fall vow to turn things around, and his desire to impress Father Winchester.  His new routine became waking to Dean bringing coffee and usually breakfast.  After they ate, Sam would do the physical therapy exercises with the nurse.  Then it was lunch, and in the afternoon, lessons with Father Winchester.  At some point in the day there was always the need for him to get washed up, which given his limitations in movement and reach, meant receiving some help from the nurse or aide.  He was fairly sure he’d caught Dean stealing a look at least once or twice, and he smiled to himself.  Guess it was only fair since he had seen Dean’s ass, that Dean should get a look at his.

*        *        *        *        *

Despite all Father Winchester’s efforts to ignore his feelings and pretend he’d never kissed Sam, he relived that kiss daily.  He had gone straight to confession the next day, and he’d done the prescribed penance, but the impure thoughts?   They were not going anywhere.  He tried to push down the urges, the flashes of fantasies that would strike at the most inopportune times.   Most times he succeeded in keeping himself in control, but there were small slips, like accidentally walking into the room early when Sam was getting his sponge-bath, or looks that lingered a little too long, little unnecessary touches that he just couldn’t stop.

 

Sam, for his part, seemed to have made an honest change.  He was working fiercely on his lessons, and his grades were steadily improving.  If he kept up the hard work, combined with his natural intelligence, there was still a chance he could earn a scholarship for college.  The less Sam flirted, and the more he applied himself, the more attracted Dean felt to him.  Instead of the smirks, he got to see Sam’s real smile, open and full of joy…framed by dimples.  

 

Days strung together into weeks until a month passed, and it got harder and harder to ignore and deny his feelings.  Sam occupied some part of his thoughts every minute of the day.  His heart lifted and he couldn’t stop the smile that curled his full lips every time he walked back through the door to Sam’s room.  He ached to be closer to Sam, but this wasn’t really about sex at all.  Father Winchester was falling in love.

*        *        *        *        *

Sam’s cast came off in early July.  The external device that had been holding his leg together had been removed a few weeks before that, and he’d had several more surgeries in the meantime.  Dr. Birch came to speak to Sam and Dean about a week later, saying it was time for Sam to move to the next phase of his recovery.

 

“We’ve done all we can do with surgery, Sam.  And you’ve been doing really well in therapy.  I have no doubts you’ll be walking again, and probably sooner than you think.  But, you need more intensive therapy, from people who specialize in that part of treatment.”  Dr. Birch held out a pamphlet which Sam took from him.  “This is the best rehab facility in the state.  I think you should consider going there.”

 

Sam looked through the pamphlet, taking in the pictures and explanations of the facilities.  It all looked perfect, until he closed it and looked at the address on the back.  “But, this place is like 4 hours away.”  Dr. Birch nodded.  “But, but…Father Winchester, he’s been helping me keep up with my school work.  That’s too far for him to drive back and forth.  I can’t go here.”  Sam tried to hand the pamphlet back to the surgeon.

 

“But, Sam, this is the best place for you.  They specialize in orthopedic rehab.”

 

“Find somewhere else.  It’s too far.”

 

“Dr. Birch, could you give us some time to discuss this?”  Dean asked.

 

“Of course…and I’ll gather some information about secondary facilities too.”   Father Winchester smiled and thanked him and the doctor left them alone.

 

“Sam, I think you should go there.”  Dean said softly.  “You’ve worked so hard to be able to walk…this is going to affect the rest of your life.”

 

The panicked look in Sam’s eyes turned to devastation.  “So will being separated from you.  Again.”

 

Dean swallowed against the lump that had formed in his throat.  He could not stand that look in Sam’s hazel eyes, nor the emotion that cracked his voice.  And if Dean were to be truly honest with himself, he did not want to be separated from Sam either.  He closed his eyes as he tried to get a handle on the swirl of emotions and thoughts tearing through him.  He wasn’t going to give Sam up, not now.

 

“Okay.  Okay, Sammy.  I’ll come with you then.”

 

Sam’s head jerked back in surprise as his eyes widened.  “You will?”

 

Dean nodded.  

 

“You sure?  What about the school?”

 

“It’s summer, most of the boys will go home.  Pastor Jim can handle the few that are left for a couple of months.  And there are a few other people that could help as well.”  Dean paused and ducked his head.  “I want you to get the best treatment out there…and I….I don’t want-“ Dean stopped and looked up, the hazel gaze fixed on him was full of hope.  “I don’t want you to have to be alone.  Not anymore.”

 

Sam reached for his hand.  “Thank you, Dean.”

 

 

 

[ Chapter 7 ](http://deansdirtybb.livejournal.com/18078.html)


	8. Faith, Love, and Sin - Chapter 7

** Chapter 7 **

“Rise and shine, Sam!”  Lanie, Sam’s primary physical therapist, was always just a touch more cheerful than the teen thought was healthy.  Lately her pep bordered on psychotic.  Sam groaned and pulled his pillow over his head.  He’d tried, and it wasn’t that he didn’t care about getting better, but it was so much harder than he’d thought it would be.

 

Sam was three weeks into rehab, and his motivation had dwindled little by little, until for the last four days, Lanie had been forced to use more and more insistent wake up calls.  This time she crossed the room and pulled the pillow off his face.  

 

“Come on, sugar, our appointment was for 8, and it’s nearly half past, so we gotta get a move on.”  Sam rolled over to face away from her again.  He liked her, he really did.  He just didn’t have it in him this morning.  He was tired.  He heard a heavy sigh behind him, then the sounds of a chair being dragged across the floor.  He felt a soft hand on his shoulder just before he heard her voice again, tone gentle this time.  “Ok, forget the exercises this morning.  Talk to me.  What’s going on?”

 

Sam scrunched his eyelids tighter shut to resist rolling them.  He would rather jump out of bed and do twice the exercises than talk. 

 

“He’ll call today.  He always does, you know that.”  Lanie said, the hand on his shoulder giving a squeeze.  She was talking about Dean, and she was right.  He’d called Sam every single day since he’d dropped him off, but he hadn’t laid eyes on his brother in 20 days.  This time he rolled his eyes at himself.

 

Dean had spoken to Pastor Jim the day after making Sam the promise that he would go to rehab with him.  Pastor Jim agreed that the school would get along just fine without the young priest for a couple of months and that it would be good for Sam if Dean accompanied him.  Dean had returned to the school to pack them each a suitcase, and the following day when Sam was released from the hospital, Dean drove them the four hours north.  Three hours into the trip, Dean received a phone call and Sam had known immediately from the tension in his brother’s jaw that something was wrong.

 

“What’s going on?” Sam asked as soon as Dean put his phone down.

 

“Pastor Jim’s had an emergency, Sam.  He needs me to come back and look after the school.”

 

“Oh.”  The small word was all Sam could manage through his tight throat.

 

“I’m sorry, Sam.  It’s just for a few days, maybe a week.  Then I’ll come right back up here with you.”  When Sam didn’t say anything Dean added, “I promise.”

 

The week had stretched into two and now three.  Dean called Sam every day, and every day he apologized, explaining that Jim had gotten held up and that he was waiting to hear back from the other men who might be able to help at the school.  Dean sounded as pained as Sam felt about being separated, and though Sam knew in his head that his brother wanted to be with him, he couldn’t stop the familiar rush of dark emotions that always came with being left somewhere new on his own.

 

At first Sam had been determined to do well; he wanted to impress his brother when he returned.  But every day he struggled a little more as the doubts swirled through him.  The internal battle of convincing himself that Dean wouldn’t abandon him took its toll, and today was the day he was no longer interested in crawling out of the murky pit.  

 

Sam shrugged Lanie’s hand off his shoulder.  “I’m calling out sick today,” he grumbled, hoping she’d give up even though he knew her tenacity was limitless.

 

“You’re injured, not sick…and there’s no calling out of your physical therapy.”

 

“Well, call it whatever you want.  I’m not doin’ that shit today.”  There, if the attitude itself was not enough, throwing a curse out should take the perk out of her.

 

Lanie sighed and pushed up out of the chair.  “Fine, Samuel.  I will mark that you refused your morning session.  I’ll see you at 1:30.  No excuses.”  She left before he could argue.

*        *        *        *        *

Father Winchester paced his apartment, racking his brain yet again.  He’d just gotten off the phone with Pastor Jim, who was going to be stuck on his hunt for another week at least.  Dean tossed his phone across the room into the couch.  He had promised Sam, _promised him_ , that he would be there in a week.  Instead it was going to be over a month.  There had to be someone, anyone who could sit at the school for a week or two.  There were only 4 boys left and with no classes currently in session, it would be an easy job.

 

Dean’s ringtone sounded from the cushions across the room and he went to pick it up.  The caller ID displayed the name of Sam’s rehab facility; he quickly hit the button to accept the call.

 

“Father Winchester?  This is Dr. Wilson.  I oversee the physical therapy program that Samuel Campbell is enrolled in.”

 

“Is Sam ok?  What happened?”  There was an edge of panic in Dean’s voice.  He still hadn’t recovered from the guilt of being gone when Sam fell; he would never forgive himself if something else had happened to his brother while he wasn’t there.  

 

“Nothing has happened, Father.  Sam is not hurt.”

 

Dean breathed a sigh of relief.  “That’s good to hear.  Is there something I can help you with?”

 

“I hope so.  I’m sure you understand the extent of your brother’s injuries?  And the importance of his full involvement in his physical therapy?”

 

“Yes, of course.  The only way he’ll walk normally again is if he keeps up all his hard work.  I don’t understand, you’re making it sound like Sam’s slacking off, but he was doing so well.”

 

“He was.  At first.  When Sam came to us he was in peak condition, and he was totally committed.”  The doctor took a breath.  “But, over the last few weeks, Sam has changed.”

 

“Changed?”

 

“His energy has declined steadily; he hasn’t been putting in the same effort.  Today he completely refused PT.  Father Winchester, I’m afraid if Sam doesn’t turn things around quickly he’ll lose any progress he has made.  And if he continues to refuse therapy sessions, we’ll have to discharge him from the program.”

 

“Discharge him?  No, you can’t do that.  Sammy needs this therapy, and your facility is his best hope.  What’s going on with him?” Dean asked.  “There has to be something we can do to get him back on track.”

 

“I’m not sure why, but Sam just appears to have completely lost motivation.  Maybe you can try talking to him.  Your opinion seems to mean a lot to him.”

 

Dean breathed out.  “Of course I’ll talk to him.  Just please, don’t kick him out just yet.”

 

“We’ll give Sam a chance.  He seems like a good kid under the teenage attitude; we really want to see him do well.  Talk to him.  See what you can do.  I’ll check in with you again in a few days.”

 

Dean hung up his phone and stared at it in his palm.  The image of Sam, alone and depressed, refusing his treatment, cut deep into his core, and guilt at being the one to trigger another bout of abandonment issues burned under his skin.  He flicked through his phone to the contact list.  This was no longer a choice; Sam needed him.

 

The phone only rang once before the man on the other end picked up.

 

“Dad?  I need your help.”

 

John didn’t miss a beat.  “Of course, son.  Anything you need.”

 

“Pastor Jim is stuck on a job, and Sam needs my help, but someone needs to be here at the school for the boys who didn’t go home for the summer.”

 

“Dean…I don’t know how good I’d be with a bunch of teen-“

 

“Caleb can come to the school, he’s filled in before.  But he is finishing off a hunt…I need you to finish his hunt so he can come here.”

 

“Just tell me where he is and I’ll be on my way there.”

 

Dean’s head fell back as relief flooded his system.  “Thanks, Dad.”  Dean gave John the coordinates and made the call to Caleb as he packed his duffel bag.  By nightfall Caleb was bunked in one of the empty rooms in the farmhouse and Dean was in the Impala on his way to Sam.   


  
*        *        *        *        *   


“I know!” Sam didn’t mean to raise his voice, but really, he’d done this exercise about a thousand times and Lanie knew he knew how to do it.  Her legs hadn’t been shattered, she didn’t get how hard this was and he was just about done with the stupid happy smile she always flashed at him as she asked him to go through the most excruciating activities.

 

“Alright, Sam.  One more step to the wheelchair, then I’ll let you off the hook for the night.”

 

Sam scowled at her as he completed that step and then flopped down into the chair.

 

“Good enough.  You can go back to your room.  I’ll see you first thing in the morning.  And we’re adding another session tomorrow to make up for skipping this morning.”

 

Sam wheeled out of the room without answering.  When he got back to his room, he grabbed his crutches and levered himself out of his chair and over to his bed.  He dropped onto his bed and fought to catch his breath.  He was so tired of this.  He pushed back against the headboard and his gaze fell on the nightstand to the copy of the _Knights of the Round Table_ Dean had left with him.  Tears stung the back of his eyes and he swiped his hand over the table sending the book and everything else there flying across the room.

 

“Rough day?”

 

Sam’s head snapped to the doorway.  “Dean?”  He hadn’t realized how much he missed his brother until those bow legs were carrying Dean into the room to him and Sam could not stop the grin that took over his entire face.

 

Dean kicked the door shut and crossed the room in two steps as he watched Sam’s face light up.  The crushing weight Dean had felt since the day he’d had to drive away and leave Sam behind alone lifted from his chest at the sight of those dimples.  As soon as Dean reached the bed, he pulled Sam into a hug, and as he breathed in the scent of his brother, he knew he couldn’t be separated from Sam again.  

 

Sam pulled back from the hug just enough to look into Dean’s eyes, and his hand came up to cup his brother’s face.  Their lips were inches apart and Sam wanted so badly to kiss Dean, but he still wasn’t sure where the young priest’s head was with this thing between them, and he didn’t want to disrupt the delicate balance they seem to have found.  “I can’t believe you’re here.”  Sam whispered, running his thumb over Dean’s stubbled cheek. “I missed you.  So much.”

 

Father Winchester’s hands moved over Sam’s back, and then up into the hair over his collar.  “I’m sorry, Sammy.  Shoulda been here sooner, I-“ Sam could not hold himself back anymore.  He leaned forward those inches and brought their lips together.  Dean tensed for only a fraction of a second before he relaxed into Sam’s touch.  

 

“Missed you too.”  Dean said as he drew back from the kiss.  “I tried to get here sooner, Sam, I really did.”

 

“I don’t care, Dean.  I’m just glad you’re here now.”  Sam wrapped his hands around Dean’s.  “Did Pastor Jim come back?”

 

Dean shook his head.  “No, he’s still dealing with his emergency.”

 

Sam frowned in confusion.  “Who’s at the school then?  And why did you come now?”

 

“Caleb’s at the school.  Dr. Wilson called me, Sam.  He told me you weren’t doing very well, they’re worried about you…I called Dad, he went to help with Caleb’s job so Caleb could watch the school.”  

 

Sam raised an eyebrow to that.  “You called John?”

 

Dean nodded.  “It’s just for a week or so, and then Jim will be back.”  When Sam’s look didn’t change Dean rushed on. “I just couldn’t leave you alone any longer, Sammy.  Shouldn’t have in the first place.”  Dean pushed a hand into Sam’s hair, stroking the chestnut strands between his fingers.

 

“I know you couldn’t help it, but I hated you being away.”

 

Dean smiled at him.  “I was always coming back.”  Dean ran a thumb over Sam’s cheek, then dropped his hand back to the bed between them.  “So, what’s happened with therapy, Sam?”

 

Sam looked down to the hands that were still entwined between them.  “I-I don’t know…at first it was fine.  Then…I just…I didn’t care anymore.  And it hurts sometimes.  And it’s really hard.”  He looked up into Dean’s green eyes, a smirk spreading across his face.  “Plus they start _so_ early.”

 

Dean laughed as he shook his head.  “Well, no more slacking; you worked too hard in the hospital to get here.  We are gonna get you walking again.”

 

Sam nodded.  “Okay.”

 

“I got a hotel room down the block.  I’ll be here every day.”

 

Sam’s hazel eyes held the glimmer of tears as he thanked Father Winchester.     


  
*        *        *        *        *   


Dean held true to his word.  He appeared in Sam’s doorway every morning, and every morning Sam lit up as soon as he set eyes on his brother.  Sam quickly made up the progress he’d lost during his depression, and soon he was making even bigger steps forward.  

 

Things seemed to change between the two young men as well.  Dean had packed quickly and most of the clothes he’d brought with him were casual.  Being out of uniform and away from the school and church, the pressures of his roles felt small and far away.  His guard slipped, and the budding feelings he had for Sam occupied more and more of his heart.  One by one Dean’s reasons for not being with Sam faded from his mind.  The priest felt himself being irresistibly drawn closer and closer to the young man.

 

Sam flourished under the attentions of his older brother.  He was soon walking with the crutches more often than using the wheelchair and as the weeks went on he began working with a cane.  It felt good to walk upright towards Dean and look into his beautiful green eyes.

 

The change in Dean’s demeanor didn’t escape Sam’s notice either.  He watched as his brother relaxed and there was no more discussion of boundaries.  Though Dean wasn’t making any more moves towards anything sexual, he seemed less and less inclined to disguise the looks of longing and desire towards Sam.  Sam didn’t push, just allowed hints that he was still more than willing to advance their physical relationship; sending looks at his brother that were just a bit longer than necessary, letting his fingers linger a few extra moments over Dean’s, or resting his hand on one of Dean’s muscular thighs.

 

The air between the brothers became thick and electric with unspoken desires and aborted touches.  Since everyone at the facility was aware of their familial ties, any time anyone was around they worked to hide all the lust churning under the surface.  Eventually the tension would build to a crescendo and Dean would shut them in behind the door to Sam’s room.  So far all the Father had allowed were kisses, but Sam managed to make those kisses count.

 

It was mid September, school had started again back at the farmhouse and just as he’d done in the hospital, Father Winchester brought Sam’s lessons to him so he wouldn’t fall behind.  Sam was trying to focus, he honestly was, but being alone with Dean was a distraction he found increasingly difficult to ignore.  Especially since lesson time was one of the few opportunities they had to be together without the eyes of anyone to judge exactly how close the brothers were.  Sometimes Dean fell back behind the wall of his role as teacher, but Sam usually managed to coax him back out again.

 

Father Winchester was reviewing Latin with Sam, and the young man found the sight and sound of those full lips enunciating the old language completely seductive.  He asked Dean to repeat words over and over, hazel eyes riveted to Dean’s mouth until the gravitational force of that flesh compelled Sam forward.  As he leaned over the books between them on the bed, Dean looked up, green irises nothing but a slender ring around wide pupils.  Sam curled his lips in a half smile, his pink cupid’s bow nearly brushing Dean’s plush lips as he asked, “One more time, Father?”  It was always a gamble to use that moniker in these moments, but it gave Dean a deep secret shiver and Sam had long since admitted to himself his own kink about his brother’s position.

  
The smallest sound escaped Dean just before he repeated the word, breathing it against Sam’s mouth. “ _Vis vires_.”

 

Sam’s tongue snuck out to trace Dean’s bottom lip and then Sam drew the lush, tender flesh into his mouth, nipping it gently with his teeth.  Dean moaned into Sam’s mouth and his hand plunged into Sam’s tousled hair which drew a matching sound from Sam.  Books were forgotten as they both pushed forward trying to bring as much contact as possible between their bodies.  Sam wrapped his arms around Dean’s muscled back and pulled him tight to his chest.  His hands rubbed up Dean’s spine, over his neck and his fingers scratched through the short hair on the back of Dean’s head.

 

Dean’s mind swirled, every time he kissed Sam like this another piece of the wall he’d put between them crumbled and the reasons not to be with the man he loved seemed less and less important than all the reasons he and Sam should be together.  The feeling of Sam’s long fingers grazing over his scalp and Sam’s lean body pressed to his registered deep in his gut.  A breathy moan pushed from Dean as he tried to pull Sam even closer, his fingers tugged on the chestnut locks of Sam’s hair and tilted his head allowing their mouths to fit together perfectly and Dean pushed his tongue into Sam’s mouth.

 

Sam whimpered when he felt Dean’s tongue slip past his lips and begin tracing the inside of his mouth.  He wrapped his own tongue around it and sucked it deeper in.  Sam tried to push his body closer, but his leg went to an odd angle, and suddenly shocking pain shot up the nerve making him jump back and cry out, his hand flying to his thigh to grip the source of the sting.

 

“Sammy?”  Dean asked, pupils still dilated, but green eyes filled with concern.

 

Sam nodded as he rubbed at the spasming muscle.  “Just a cramp.”

 

Without thinking, Dean put his hands on Sam’s thigh, pushing Sam’s out of the way.  “Let me help.”  Dean’s strong fingers carefully massaged the tight muscle until he felt it start to loosen under his fingers.  Sam relaxed under his touch and suddenly Dean realized where his hands were – wrapped around Sam’s lean thigh midway between knee and crotch.   His brain told him he should probably move his hand away, but every ounce of his body refused to relinquish his hold and his hands itched to smooth up that long limb to the growing bulge in Sam’s jeans.  

 

“Feels better,” Sam breathed out.  He brought his own hands over Dean’s that had frozen in place.  “You don’t have to stop.”

 

Dean’s fingers returned to gently kneading the muscle of Sam’s thigh as Sam’s hands slowly guided them further and further up his leg.  Dean held his breath as Sam’s came in faster gulps, Dean’s fingertips now only inches from the growing hardness of Sam’s prick.  

 

“Dean,” Sam’s voice was barely a whisper as Dean’s fingers crept the final inch to stroke over the tip of Sam’s cock.

 

A firm knock sounded on Sam’s door and both boys jumped, Dean’s hands flying from their place in Sam’s lap.

 

“Sam?” Anne, Sam’s nurse, called from the other side of the door.  “It’s time for meds.  You decent?”

 

Sam cursed under his breath before calling out, “Yeah, come in.”

 

The door opened and Anne stepped through carrying a cup of water and a smaller white cup of pills.  “Everything ok?” she asked, eyebrow quirked as if she could sense something off about the energy in the room.

 

Sam nodded and Dean said, “Yeah, I was helping Sam with his school work and he got a muscle spasm in his thigh.”

 

“Those happen with the physical therapy sometimes.  I’ll bring you a muscle relaxer in a minute.  Do you want a heating pad?”

 

Sam shook his head.  “No.  Dean helped me work it out.  I’m fine now.”  He took the pills and water, swallowing everything in one go.  “Thanks, Anne.”

 

She smiled as she left the room, promising to return with the muscle relaxer.

 

Dean let out a breath and Sam cursed again.  Sam was still half hard, but he knew the moment had been ruined and there would be no getting Dean back there tonight.  “We need to get out of this place for a bit.”

 

Dean just looked at him.  “Dean, I’m going stir-crazy.  I’ve been either in the hospital or this place for months.  _Months_.  I’m not saying I wanna quit or take off or anything.  Just get out for a night.  Maybe dinner that’s some normal food?  A movie?  Freakin’ putt putt.  I don’t care.  Just something that’s not about PT or my stupid bones.”

 

Dean’s face melted into a half smile as he chuckled.  “Fair enough.  Tomorrow’s Saturday, so you only have the one PT session in the morning, then Sunday is usually your rest day anyway.  How about we go to dinner in town?”

 

Sam grinned.  “Father Winchester, you askin’ me on a date?”  

 

Dean ducked his head as he blushed.  He looked up and nodded.  “Yeah, guess I am.”

 

Sam beamed harder and bounced across his bed, hands landing on Dean’s shoulders as he leaned forward to place a kiss on his brother’s lips.  “’Bout time.”  He kissed Dean again.  “And yes.  I say yes.”

 

 

 

[ Chapter 8 ](http://deansdirtybb.livejournal.com/18302.html)


	9. Faith, Love, and Sin - Chapter 8

** Chapter 8 **

The next day Sam was so excited about his date with Dean that he could barely focus to get through his session, and even Lanie commented on his frenetic energy.  He was mostly working with a cane at this point, using crutches when he was tired, and he hardly ever required the wheelchair anymore.  She kept redirecting his attention to the exercises each time his mind wandered away, which seemed to be about every two or three minutes.  Finally she called an early end to the session.

 

“I’m not sure what’s on your mind, Sam.  But it’s pretty clear we’re not going to accomplish much more today.”

 

Sam figured he was probably supposed to apologize, but he couldn’t find it in him to be sorry about being so excited to spend time alone with Dean, so he just shrugged at her.

 

She smiled as she shook her head at the teenager.  “Alright, well, tomorrow is Sunday, so no session, but don’t forget to do your exercises anyway.”

 

“’Kay.” Sam agreed, flashing her a smile and hoping she couldn’t tell that he just wanted to leave so he could get on with his day.

 

“Okay, get outta here,” she said, waving him out of the room.  He grinned at her, grabbed his cane and left.

*        *        *        *        *

Dean paced his hotel room.  He’d told Sam that since he’d be picking him up to take him out for the night, he wouldn’t come to the day’s PT session.  Unfortunately that left him with a lot of time and nothing to do.  Once he was alone he briefly reconsidered this date with his brother, but he never actually got to thinking he should cancel it.  He knew in his head that there were still all the same reasons he shouldn’t be doing this, but in his time with Sam since the accident, his feelings for the young man had only grown until he could no longer deny what Sam meant to him.

 

He looked at the clock for the hundredth time that hour and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was finally time to leave to pick Sam up.  He did a last check in the mirror, threw on his leather jacket, grabbed the keys to the Impala and headed out the door.

*        *        *        *        *

Sam pulled on his favorite jeans, the fabric worn and soft, but still in good enough shape to hug his ass.  He went through five different shirts before deciding on a fairly snug navy blue t-shirt.  He ran his hands through his hair, again, and then forced himself to sit down at his desk while he waited for Dean.

 

Seven minutes, which felt closer to an eternity, later Dean appeared in his doorway, tapping his knuckles against the frame.

 

“Hey.” Dean greeted him.

 

“Hey,” Sam returned.  He grabbed his cane and stood, taking his time crossing the room so he could get a good look at his brother.  Dean wore a brown leather jacket over a well-fitted t-shirt that was the perfect shade of green to bring out the gorgeous color of his eyes.  Sam recognized the jeans and knew the view he was in for as he followed Dean out to the car.  “Let’s get outta here.”

 

“Absolutely.” Dean said, and then looked out into the hallway in both directions before taking a step forward and capturing Sam’s lips in a kiss.  “Let’s go.”  Dean turned around and led the way towards the exit.  Sam smiled to himself as he watched Dean walk ahead of him, or more accurately, watched Dean’s ass.

 

Once he was seated in the passenger seat of Dean’s Impala, Sam asked, “So, what’s the plan?  Where are you taking me?”

 

Dean smiled, a little nervously.  “I thought we’d go with a classic.  Dinner and a movie.”

 

Sam flashed his dimples.  “Sounds good.”

 

Dean nodded, put the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot.  The drive into town took about 15 minutes and though there were a few shaky attempts at conversation, both young men seemed too nervous to get very far.  Sam did find the courage to reach across the bench seat and take hold of Dean’s hand and they both relaxed a little with the contact.

 

They parked outside a two story building, the top half painted red and the bottom covered in olive green siding.  A white sign read “Fred’s” in red letters.  Sam’s smile spread wide across his face, dimples framing his beaming grin.  “Fred’s?  Really?”  They had ordered pizza a few times and Fred’s was by far Sam’s favorite.

 

Dean couldn’t help but return the smile as he nodded.  “Hungry?”

 

Sam leaned across the seat, placing a hand on Dean’s jaw as he bent forward and kissed him.  “Starving.”

 

They found a booth in a quiet corner in the back of the restaurant and ordered a pizza to split.  The difficulty making conversation from the car seemed to disappear as they talked about everything and anything while they waited for the food and then continued on as they ate.  Dean learned about Sam’s time with Robert, Elise and Christian, and Sam listened as Dean explained how he ended up becoming a priest.  Sam was surprisingly unaffected by the brief explanation of his family’s history with hunting demons and ghosts.  Sam was curious about the fire that killed Mary, but he didn’t want to get that serious tonight.  Instead he steered the discussion toward Dean’s other interests and his own hobbies.

 

After the waitress cleared the pan and plates away, Sam scooted closer to Dean.  Dean raised an eyebrow, but when Sam just smiled back he said nothing, allowing the younger man to sit close enough to feel the heat from his body.  Dean tried to return to talking, but suddenly the only thought his brain could form was how badly he wanted to kiss Sam’s pink lips.  From the way Sam’s gaze was focused on Dean’s lips he guessed his brother’s thought pattern was similar.  Inch by inch they each leaned closer and closer as they talked until their noses were nearly touching.  The talking stopped and they stared into each other’s eyes, Sam tilted his head incrementally to the right.  They shared a slow gentle kiss, Dean pulled back, holding Sam’s chin softly between his thumb and forefinger.  “I think we should go now.”  Sam nodded slowly, eyes never leaving Dean’s.  “Movie starts soon.”

 

Dean paid the check and they moved on to the theater.  Sam chose the latest action movie that would require the least amount of brain power to keep up with plot; he also chose seats in the last row.  Dean didn’t object as he settled into the cushioned seat next to him and the first thing Sam did was to lift the armrest between the seats.  Dean just chuckled and shook his head.

 

As soon as the lights dimmed and the movie started, Sam pushed into Dean’s side and nudged until Dean took the hint and put his arm around the younger man.  Sam smiled at him as he snuggled in, resting his hand on Dean’s knee.  He let about half the movie pass before tilting his face up to Dean’s and planting soft kisses to Dean’s lightly stubbled jawline.  Dean surprised him when he tucked his chin down and let his lips meet Sam’s.  It was a lazy kiss, lips leisurely moving over each other for just a few minutes and then Dean pulled back and aimed his face back toward the screen.

 

Sam watched some of the movie with his head resting on Dean’s shoulder, hand still bleeding heat through the denim over Dean’s knee.  It didn’t take long before Dean’s neck began to look more interesting than the movie and Sam let his lips tentatively explore, licking at freckles and nipping at random spots.  He let his hand trace up the inseam of Dean’s jeans, stopping about halfway up to knead the muscle.

 

“Sammy,” Dean whispered.  

 

Sam pulled back to look at Dean in the light of the projector. For a moment Sam thought his brother would ask him to stop, but he saw mossy eyes that were lust-blown and Dean’s breathing had sped up.  Dean leaned down to capture Sam’s mouth in a more insistent kiss.  Sam immediately opened to allow Dean’s tongue in to tangle around his own.  Sam let out a breathy moan and pushed closer to Dean, his hand creeping up Dean’s leg another inch.  Dean’s hand pushed into Sam’s hair and his plush lips worked to devour Sam completely.  Dean pushed his leg open wider, and Sam took the unspoken permission to slide his hand to the growing bulge behind Dean’s zipper.

 

Finally having the hard length of Dean’s cock under his hand made Sam dizzy with arousal.  He was sure every blood cell he possessed just rushed straight for his own dick and he whimpered into Dean’s mouth as his hand gently squeezed.  It felt so good.  It was too much.  It was not nearly enough.  Sam didn’t want to stop, but he knew he was not going to find satisfaction of this building need in the back seat of a theater.  He let his hand slide back to Dean’s thigh.

 

“Dean,” he whispered, and it was a plea he hoped his brother would understand.  

 

Dean looked down at him and answered the question Sam hadn’t even had to ask yet.  “Yeah.”  They were both ready to leave.  “Just…uh…just give me a minute?”  Sam wore a smile that was part grin, part smirk as he nodded and sat back in his seat.  They both stared at the screen blankly as the last big chase scene unfolded before them.

 

When the lights came up, they let people file out before standing up and leaving themselves.  Sam reached out for Dean’s hand as they walked back to the car and once they were shut inside he spoke again.  “I’m not ready to go back.  For the date to be over.”

 

Dean smiled at the admission.  He wasn’t really ready to give up this time alone with Sam yet either, but he knew what he should do.  He placed a kiss to Sam’s mouth.  “I know, Sammy, but I really should get you back.”

 

“You don’t have to.”

 

“What do you mean?”  Dean asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

 

“I mean,” Sam said, letting his hand trace up Dean’s chest to lie along the side of his neck, “that I don’t have to go back tonight.  I have no PT tomorrow, there’s no reason I need to sleep there.  You could just call them, tell them you’ll bring me back first thing in the morning.  I could stay with you tonight.  Please?”

 

Dean’s eyebrows shot up.  “Spend the night?  Sam, I don’t think-“

 

Sam cut him off before he could completely freak out.  “To sleep, Dean.  Just to sleep.”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“Okay, maybe not _just_ to sleep.”  Sam admitted with a dimpled grin.  “But, not sex.  We don’t have to rush this.  I just want a little more time together.  Alone.”

 

Dean sighed.  Against his better judgment he picked up his phone and called the front desk of the rehab.  “Just to sleep,” he said as he snapped the phone shut and pulled the car onto the street for his hotel. 

*        *        *        *        *

Minutes later Dean was shutting the door to his hotel room, Sam leaning on his cane in the middle of the room.  They stared at each other, neither knowing what to do.

 

Dean was completely conflicted.  He knew he should tuck his brother into bed and lay himself down on the couch for the night.  Or maybe in another room, just to be absolutely safe.  But one look at Sam shattered his resistance.  The fitted t-shirt and jeans highlighted all that was perfect about his long lean body, and Sam had taken every opportunity to bend in front of Dean all night.  The pink cupid’s bow of his mouth was swollen, the color deepened by all the time indulged in kissing.  When Dean met Sam’s eyes, his breath was taken away by the swirl of color and emotion he found there, all slightly overshadowed by the lustful way his pupils had dilated.  Dean would not be sleeping on the couch tonight.

 

Sam stood on his better leg and watched Dean close and lock the door, and then waited patiently as he witnessed the war wage behind those emerald eyes.  He saw the moment when Dean’s body and heart won out over his brain, and when he was sure Dean was watching his eyes, he let his gaze absorb his older brother toes to head.  

 

The bowed legs were perfectly displayed in his current stance and Sam had gotten an eyeful of the flawless curve of his ass when he’d turned to lock the door.  There was already the beginning of a bulge behind his zipper, and Sam wondered if Dean had stayed at least half hard since the theater.  The firm landscape of muscles at play under the thin t-shirt had been driving Sam crazy for the better part of the night, and right now Sam could see the rise and fall of his pecs and the peaks of his nipples.  He wondered how sensitive they were, and hoped he’d get to find out very soon.  Dean’s neck was pink where Sam had lavished attention on it earlier and Sam’s tongue itched to lick those freckles all over again.  Dean’s already unfairly plush lips were even plumper, reddened from time spent pressing against Sam’s, they were slightly parted and Sam watched as Dean’s tongue darted out to wet them.  Sam met Dean’s gaze again to find the previously conflicted verdant gaze now dark with desire, pupils almost completely hiding the green.

 

Deans hands clenched into fists and relaxed again at his sides.  Sam watched him, and knew that he was going to have to be the one to break the ice.  Though Dean was older, Sam recognized his brother had more to overcome.  He cocked his head, “You really gonna make me come to you with a bum leg?”  Dean’s shoulder relaxed a little as he laughed and then took the few steps to close the distance between them.

 

“Sammy, I…”

 

Sam brought his finger to Dean’s lips.  “Shhh, it’s okay, Dean.  Just you and me.”  He wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders and brought their foreheads together.  “Whatever happens…or doesn’t happen…is ok.  The only thing I want is to be with you.”

 

Dean took a slow deep breath of relief, and then as if the only thing he needed was permission to not act, he tipped his head to the side and caught Sam’s mouth in a kiss.  It started slow and innocent, but quickly grew hot and insistent.  Whatever gate had held Dean back splintered and disintegrated and strong hands moved over Sam’s body with such passion it stole Sam’s breath away.  

 

Sam moaned into Dean’s mouth and pressed his body full against Dean’s.  His hands first wrapped around Dean’s head, deepening the kiss and then slid down his strong chest to grip Dean’s hips.  Dean hummed as Sam used his leverage to press their rapidly filling cocks together and both broke from the kiss to curse as their hips ground together creating just the right friction through the denim of their jeans.  Sam’s hands slowly journeyed around Dean’s hips, until they rested on the globes of Dean’s ass.  Finally, fucking _finally_ , he was getting his hands on the anatomy that had most tortured him, and no fantasy could have prepared him for how amazing that rounded muscle felt under his palms.  He used the leverage to push Dean’s pelvis forward, grinding their cocks together and then flexed the muscles in his large hands and squeezed the flesh, relishing in the firm give and in the sounds Dean made.

 

Dean pulled from the kiss, gasping for breath.  Sam’s lips weren’t satisfied yet, and they went to work on Dean’s jawline, making their way back to Dean’s ear.  Sam licked the soft skin under the lobe, then drew the flesh into his hot mouth.

 

“Sammy,” Dean whimpered out as Sam sucked and nibbled the tender lobe, hands still grasping Dean’s ass and pressing their groins together.  Dean’s hands pushed through Sam’s hair, tugging briefly, before they brushed down his back, finding their way to his hips.  Dean’s strong fingers pressed into Sam’s hips and he pulled and pressed, helping increase the friction and pressure between their erections.  It seemed Sam wasn’t the only one who had been waiting to get his hands on his brother’s ass, Dean’s hands quickly moved from his hips to firmly grasp the meat of Sam’s backside and now Sam’s mouth broke free gasping for air and groaning out Dean’s name.

 

Sam teetered a little on his feet, he’d dropped his cane and had been using Dean’s strong body to hold him up, but his legs were quickly growing tired.  “Bed?” he asked.

 

Dean froze.  “Sam…”

 

“My leg is tired.  I meant it Dean, whatever we do or don’t do is fine with me.  But if we don’t sit me down soon, I’m going to fall.”

 

“Dammit, I’m sorry.  Should have-“ Sam cut Dean off with a kiss and nodded his head toward the bed a few steps behind them.  Dean grinned as he captured Sam’s mouth in another kiss.  Sam felt Dean’s arms wrap around him, and his feet leave the ground.  Ordinarily Sam would object to being carried, but being pressed against Dean’s firm chest by his strong arms wasn’t anything he’d ever turn down.

 

Dean put Sam down at the side of the bed, and Sam carefully sat himself down and scooted back.  He looked up and watched Dean’s face as he placed a knee on the mattress, then crawled toward Sam.  Sam leaned back, Dean leaned over him, still on hands and knees, and Sam placed a hand on Dean’s chest right over his heart.  Sam stretched his neck forward and Dean leaned down, meeting in the middle for another kiss.  His hands traced over Dean’s shoulders and down the serpentine curve of his spine.  Dean’s hips swayed as his back arched and relaxed, putting his whole body into the kiss.

 

Suddenly, despite his promise to Dean, Sam needed Dean’s skin under his hands.  He brought his hands to the hem of Dean’s shirt and tentatively traced the skin just beneath it.  He broke from the kiss just enough to meet Dean’s eyes.  “Can I…?”  Dean nodded and Sam’s hands pushed under the cotton, coveting the contours of Dean’s trembling abs.  The fabric bunched behind his hands as he smoothed around Dean’s sides and ran his palms over the warm skin of Dean’s back.  When the shirt was gathered up under Dean’s armpits, Sam grasped it and pulled it over Dean’s head.  He dropped it to the floor and took a moment to appreciate his brother’s physique before stretching up again to wrap his arms around Dean’s naked back and bring him down for another kiss.  

 

Sam broke the kiss to watch his hands move over his brother’s torso, and when his palms brushed over dusky nipples, his earlier question was answered.  Dean moaned, and Sam grinned and ran his thumbs back and forth over the nubs.  When Dean was panting above him, Sam bent his head and captured the right nipple in his mouth.  Dean’s back arched and his hand tangled in Sam’s hair as he cursed.  Sam repeated his actions with similar results on the left bud and then traced his tongue over the tattoo on Dean’s chest.  He brought his mouth up to Dean’s collarbone where he sucked and nipped gaining him several more moans.

 

Dean’s hands wrapped around the younger man’s jaw and brought those clever lips back to his mouth for another kiss.  His tongue demanded entry and he could not help the way it fucked in and out of Sam’s mouth insistently.   It had been too long his body had been denied this and his feelings were too strong for this boy.  Despite everything Father Winchester knew should be stopping him, he _needed_.  He pulled back from the kiss, saliva stringing between their abused lips and stared into Sam’s eyes as he laid a palm over the taut muscles of Sam’s abdomen.  Sam understood the unspoken question and nodded.  Dean gripped the hem of the t-shirt and tugged it up as Sam sat up.  Dean tossed the material away and took in the body beneath him.

 

Sam’s lean body had filled out, and now there were long sculpted muscles on his arms, his pecs were firm and every ridge of his abs was clearly defined.  A dark trail of hair started below his navel and disappeared under the waist of his jeans.  Dean watched Sam’s eyes as he stooped to bring his mouth to the smooth caramel skin.  He started at Sam’s navel, laving the skin, sucking bits into his mouth to nip at gently and Sam writhed beneath him, a throaty moan pushed from his spit-shiny lips.  Dean moved up the grooves of Sam’s abs, tracing each with his tongue, teased over his breastbone then moved right.  He paused over Sam’s nipple as Sam fought to control his ragged breaths.  Sam knew his own nipples were incredibly sensitive and the anticipation of having Dean’s full lips wrapped around them made his cock twitch.

 

Dean’s lip quirked up cockily as if he’d read Sam’s mind.  He let his tongue barely skim the flesh, then pursed those fucking lips and blew a cool breath over the hard peak.  Sam keened, his body aching for Dean’s touch and still somehow getting off on the tease.  Dean chuckled low and dark and Sam watched as his brother opened his mouth and descended on the responsive nub.  Sam’s back arched and he called out Dean’s name as his nipples were first pinched between hard teeth, and then immediately soothed with a soft, warm, wet tongue.

 

Dean’s erection strained against the restrictive denim of his jeans and he knew there was a steadily growing wet spot in his boxer briefs.  Touching Sam and the reactions he was getting were every bit as arousing as having Sam’s hands and mouth on him.  His dick was demanding attention yet Dean was just as keen to watch Sam come apart beneath him.  Dean kissed up Sam’s chest and neck, slotting his mouth against his brother’s once again.  Sam kissed him back enthusiastic and needy, hands gripping into Dean’s short-cropped hair.

 

“Sammy…I.  Can I…?”

 

“Yeah.  Yes, Dean.  Anything.  Just need…need you.”  

 

Dean moaned and captured Sam’s mouth again.  “Me too.”  His fingers trailed cautiously down Sam’s chest, past his abs, through the dark trail of hair and rested on the button of Sam’s jeans.  Sam nodded and Dean pushed the metal button through the eyelet.  Sam held his breath as Dean slowly, carefully eased the zipper down.

 

“Fuck.” Dean cursed as he found Sam naked beneath.  He dug his teeth into his bottom lip, fighting not to come at the deliciously filthy knowledge that all that had separated him from Sam’s cock all night had been a single layer of fabric.  Dean looked up to Sam’s face and Sam shrugged.  “Don’t like underwear.”

 

“Gonna kill me, Sammy.”  

 

Dean parted the denim and took a moment to appreciate the sight in front of him.  Sam’s cock was full and hard, the head red and shiny with precome.  The boy was generously endowed, long thick length standing up from a nest of dark curls.  Dean unconsciously licked his lips and watched the organ in front of him twitch.  He looked up to Sam raising one eyebrow.  “Not tonight, sweetheart.”  Another twitch.  Dean filed that away for future use, seemed the young man appreciated pet names.  “Gonna give you my hand, though.”  Sam whimpered.  Dean wrapped his hand around the shaft, let his thumb flick over the end, gathering the slick of precome to smooth the way.

 

At the feeling of Dean’s strong hand wrapped around his aching prick, Sam hummed and closed his eyes.  His head fell back and when Dean’s thumb teased over the head he moaned again.  God, it felt good, and he feared he wouldn’t be able to last long.

 

“Deeean,” he moaned.  “I-I…I can’t…Nnng!”

 

“’s okay, just let go.”

 

Sam was already bucking into Dean’s grip, but Dean knew he was still trying to hold back.  Dean himself wasn’t going to last much longer and he wanted more than anything right now to witness Sam’s climax.  And he knew how to get the young man there.

 

Dean leaned down to bring his lips against Sam’s ear.  He twisted his wrist on the next upstroke as he huskily whispered, “Want you to come for me, baby boy.”

 

“Oh fuuuuuck!”  Sam called out as his back arched off the bed.  His cock shot hot white ropes over Dean’s hand as he came calling, “Deeaan!”

 

Sam fell back on the bed panting, and Dean stroked him through his orgasm, until Sam’s hand on his stilled the motion.  Sam’s other hand curved around Dean’s face, pulling him down for a kiss.   “Your turn,” Sam growled against his lips, and Dean felt Sam’s fingers on his fly.  He heard the metallic sound of the zipper being drawn down and then he felt Sam’s hand on him.

 

Dean moaned into the kiss as Sam’s hand worked his dick.  Sam drew Dean’s tongue into his mouth as he jacked the hard length of his prick.  Dean’s body confused the sensations as Sam’s long fingers worked his cock and his mouth sucked on Dean’s tongue.  His hands fisted in the comforter by Sam’s head, his hips thrusting into Sam’s grip.  He felt his balls draw up tight and knew he was about to come.  He wanted to warn Sam, but he refused to relinquish the scorching intensity of the kiss.  He whimpered out a grunt as warning, to which Sam only worked his cock and tongue harder.

 

Dean bit into Sam’s tender pink lip as he came, shooting his release over the taut body beneath him.  He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Sam’s as he tried to catch his breath.

 

Sam looked up into Dean’s eyes, bracing himself for the freak out he feared would follow the lifting of the haze of lust.  That wasn’t what he found in those green depths.  Not at all.

 

“I…” Dean whispered, hand cupping Sam’s face, thumb tracing his lips. “I…Sammy.  I think I…I think I might be falling for you.”  

 

Sam smiled through the wet stinging of his hazel eyes.  He nodded.  “Me too, Dean.  Me too.”  Dean leaned in to place the softest of kisses to Sam’s lips.

 

Their lips slid against each other lazily, sweetly for several minutes and then Dean slowly broke from the embrace and rose from the bed.  He disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a wet washcloth and a towel.  Dean cleaned Sam and then left again to dump the dirty clothes in the bathroom.  He stopped at the dresser, dropping his jeans and underwear and then pulling on a clean pair.  He grabbed an extra pair and returned to Sam in the bed.  He lifted Sam’s ankles and placed his feet in the legs of the boxer briefs.  Sam raised one eyebrow.

 

“Sammy, if you stay naked, neither of us will be getting any rest tonight.  And your body is still healing, you need to sleep.”

 

Sam laughed.  “Alright,” he agreed, lifting his hips so Dean could pull the boxers into place.  Although, truth be told, there was something hot about wearing the Father’s underwear, so Sam wasn’t entirely convinced it would solve the problem of distraction from rest.

 

Dean pulled the covers back and slid underneath, drawing Sam’s body against his.  Sam grasped Dean’s hand and pulled his arm around him, snuggling back into the older man’s chest.  They were both asleep in minutes, and it was probably the most soundly either had slept since a much younger Dean had wrapped his body around an even younger Sam.

 

 

 

[ Chapter 9 ](http://deansdirtybb.livejournal.com/18606.html)


	10. Faith, Love, and Sin - Chapter 9

** Chapter 9 **

The mid-morning sun filtered through the hotel curtains, falling over the bed where Dean slept curled around his brother.  Dean slowly blinked his eyes open as the warmth seeped through his lids.  When he realized he was still tangled around Sam, the events of the night before came back to him in honey-slow replays.  Dean searched his emotions, probing for the freak-out he was sure he should be having.  The only thing he found was a warmth, a contented safe feeling he could only describe as being finally whole.  All the reasons that said this should be wrong fell apart in the face of the truth of what was between him and the young man in his arms.  Father Winchester had never felt something so right as loving Sam.

 

Dean tightened his hold around Sam’s waist and placed a kiss to the back of his sleep-warm neck, inhaling the scent of the chestnut hair curling around the base of his scalp.  Dean knew he was never going to be able to let this go; knew to the base of his very soul he would never be another person to give Sam up.  What he did not know was what he was going to do about the reality of his situation – his vows, his role as Sam’s teacher…the incest.

 

Sam stirred beside him and Dean watched as Sam’s mouth twitched and his eyes blinked open.  As soon as the hazel eyes could focus on the face gazing down at him, he smiled.  “Morning.”

 

“Morning.”  Dean smiled back.  “Breakfast?”

 

Sam grinned and then spun around and had Dean pinned flat on his back in a split second.  He bent to Dean’s ear, voice husky with more than just morning scratchiness, “Don’t mind if I do.”  Sam nipped at Dean’s earlobe and started a path down his neck; he licked at a freckle in the hollow of Dean’s throat before his journeying tongue moved left stopping at the tattoo.

 

“What is this?” Sam asked.  “I mean, it just seems a little weird that a priest has a tattoo of a pentagram.”

 

Dean looked down his chest to where Sam’s finger rested on his tattoo.  “It’s for protection.  That hunting stuff I was talking about over dinner?”  Dean paused to look at Sam who nodded.  “Well, I do a lot of exorcisms, work around a lot of evil spirits and demons and this keeps them from being able to possess me.”

 

Sam grinned, a glimmer in his eye as he said, “I like it.”  Sam leaned down to trace his tongue over the lines.

 

“About breakfast?” Dean asked voice raspy.  Sam hummed against the skin beneath his lips before nipping at a small mouthful.

 

“Mmmm…I didn’t-“ Dean groaned as Sam’s teeth dug deeper into his flesh.  He chuckled as he said.  “I sorta meant actual food.”

 

Sam pulled back and smiled down at Dean.  “I guess that sounds good too.”  As if to underline the point, Sam’s stomach growled between them. 

 

Dean laughed, and Sam took in the beautiful sight of the crinkles that formed by his eyes.  “Come on, I’ll take you to brunch.”  Sam fell back to let his brother sit up and watched as he swung his bow legs over the side of the bed and stood to stretch.  His mouth watered at the sight of all that caramel-spotted skin playing over firm muscle.  Dean turned back around in time to catch the look in Sam’s eyes.  “But first, let’s grab a shower, huh?”

 

Sam grinned.  “Absolutely.”

 

“I’ll let you have first turn,” Dean said with a playful glint in his eye.

 

Sam frowned briefly and then shrugged.  He stood from the bed, pulled the borrowed pair of boxer briefs down, stepped out of them and headed toward the bathroom.  

 

Dean watched long legs carry Sam across the room, his gaze catching on the smooth globes of Sam’s pert ass.

 

Sam stopped in the doorway and looked at Dean over his shoulder, “Suit yourself.”  Sam disappeared into the bathroom and the sounds of the shower running floated out to Dean.

 

Sam barely had time to step under the spray before the blurry figure of his brother appeared on the other side of the shower curtain.  The edge of the curtain pulled back and Dean’s face poked through.  “Mind if I join you?”

 

“Get in here,” Sam said with a wide grin as he tugged Dean’s hand.  Dean stepped into the tub, drawing the curtain shut behind him and stepping toward Sam.  Sam reached for his brother and drew them both under the cascading water.  Dean pressed the entire length of his body to Sam’s and brought their mouths together, the water and flavor of his brother mixing as they kissed.

 

Dean broke the kiss to step back and, with a hand on either side of Sam’s head, he gently tilted the young man’s head back under the spray.  He let go to drop shampoo into his palm, and then massaged it through the long silky locks of Sam’s hair.  As Dean’s fingers scratched over his scalp Sam practically purred and Dean smiled at his brother’s enjoyment of the task.  He tilted Sam’s head back to rinse, careful to avoid getting suds in Sam’s eyes.

 

Once the shampoo had all been rinsed out, Sam pulled Dean closer to him again.  He picked up the soap from the shelf and looked into Dean’s eyes as he worked up a lather and then slid his hands over his brother’s skin.  When his fingers grazed Dean’s nipples, he couldn’t help himself from pinching gently and smiled at the resulting moan.  His slick hands traveled over abs, traced hipbones and then he watched Dean’s face as he wrapped a large hand around his brother’s hard cock.  He twisted his hand as he stroked several times before he released his grip to continue washing the rest of Dean’s freckled skin.

 

Dean whimpered at the loss of contact of Sam’s long fingers, and then tried to wait patiently as those large hands continued to smooth over his body.  They curved around his hips and then grasped the muscles of his ass.  Dean dropped his head and was met with the exquisite sight of Sam’s naked honey-tan skin, rivulets of water falling over and through every rise and groove of muscle.  His cock was hard, jutting from his body and so close to Dean’s own aching length.  Dean reached forward drawing Sam’s body close to his again.

 

Both gasped as the embrace brought their erections into contact.  Sam shifted to allow Dean’s cock to fit into the groove of his hip, while his own was pressed between their soap-slick stomachs.  He kept his hands on Dean’s ass and captured Dean’s plush lips in a deep kiss.  Dean’s arms wrapped around Sam as they both began to work their hips, rutting together.

 

Dean moaned into Sam’s mouth when Sam wrapped his tongue around Dean’s and sucked it deeper into his mouth.  His fingers found the cleft of Dean’s ass and traced it gently.  When Dean whimpered needily, Sam smiled to himself and let his long index finger press between the firm globes.  

 

Dean’s mouth broke free of Sam’s as he panted and the motion of his hips sped up.  Sam brushed the tip of his finger over the pucker of Dean’s hole and his brother bucked and whined.  “Sammy,” he breathed out into the crook of Sam’s neck.  “Fuck, Sammy, please.”  The sound of Dean pleading, so wrecked, and the feeling of his cock dragging over Sam’s skin more and more quickly, had Sam close to the edge.  He worked his own cock furiously between their bodies.

 

The tip of Sam’s index finger teased around Dean’s hole, driving Dean closer and closer to the orgasm he felt building in the base of his spine.  His fingers dug into Sam’s biceps and he turned his head to Sam’s neck.  He pumped his hips, cock sliding against slick skin, and the rhythm became more erratic as his climax neared.  A final press of Sam’s finger to his hole and the sound of Sam moaning his name sent Dean over.  He bit into Sam’s shoulder as he came.

 

Sam’s orgasm was punched from him by the combination of feeling Dean shoot hot and thick over him and Dean’s sharp teeth sinking into his skin.  He held tight to his brother as he rode out the waves of pleasure.

 

They stood under the falling hot water holding each other for a moment, and then Sam turned them until Dean was standing under the water and rinsed the soap and come from his pale skin.  Dean kissed Sam, before taking the soap and washing his caramel skin, appreciating each mole as he smoothed over the contours of Sam’s body.

 

After the shower, they dressed and Dean drove them to the diner in town.  They talked over breakfast and Sam convinced him to take a walk through the park before returning to rehab.  Dean was as reluctant as Sam to part when he dropped his brother off, but he knew how important Sam’s treatment was, and he refused to do anything to impede Sam’s progress.

*        *        *        *        *

After Dean’s return, Sam’s progress in physical therapy moved along so quickly it surprised everyone.  Ten days after their date, Sam was discharged with an order to follow up with out-patient sessions and a recommendation for a facility close to the school.  Dean was taught how to help Sam with his home exercises, and then they packed Sam’s things into the Impala with Dean’s suitcase and headed back towards Blue Earth.

 

Dean’s emotions were conflicted as they made the four hour trip.  He was anxious to get back to teaching and to see his students again.  He missed the horses and even his small apartment and he had also missed Pastor Jim.  Though they had talked regularly on the phone, Dean hadn’t seen the man since several weeks before he’d left the school to go be with Sam.  

 

A frown wrinkled his brow as he thought more about Jim.  Dean had accepted his feelings for Sam had made peace with most of his qualms, but it would still be necessary to hide their relationship, for many reasons.  Dean was worried that the man who had raised him and knew him so well would be able to tell something was going on, and Dean was in no way ready to face Pastor Jim’s reaction to his vow-breaking, incestuous relationship with Sam.

 

“What’s on your mind?” Sam asked, breaking Dean’s thoughts.

 

Dean smiled at him.  “Nothing much.  Just thinking about getting back to teaching, seeing Pastor Jim again.”  

 

Sam’s answering smile was thin.  He didn’t want to spend any more time in the hospital-like environment of rehab, but returning to the farmhouse carried a lot of implications.   He understood that Dean being a priest and his teacher meant they would have to hide their relationship; he just worried that a return to their day-to-day reality would have Dean denying their feelings for each other and Sam did not want to lose what he’d only just found with Dean.

 

“Hey,” Dean took Sam’s hand in his and gave it a squeeze, “something on your mind, Sammy?”

 

Sam quirked one side of his mouth up in a half-smile, he still liked hearing that nickname on Dean’s lips.  He shook his head.

 

“Come on, you can talk to me.”

 

Sam sighed, and brought their joined hands into his lap.  “I’m just not sure how this is gonna go.”

 

“What do you mean?”  Dean asked with a small frown.

 

“I just…I know we can’t exactly shout our love from the rooftops.  But…I don’t know.”  He ran his thumb over the back of Dean’s hand.  “I’m worried about what it’ll do to us.  Having to keep things a secret.  Don’t wanna lose you, Dean.”  There was a waiver in Sam’s voice and his hazel eyes were damp when Dean looked up from the road.

 

“Never gonna happen, baby boy.”  Dean brought Sam’s hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss to the knuckles.  Sam’s heart swelled and stuttered at the endearment and Dean’s promise.  He leaned across the seat and kissed the corner of Dean’s mouth.

*        *        *        *        *

About an hour outside of Blue Earth, Sam asked Dean to stop for lunch.  When they came back to the car, Dean drove them down a small dirt road and parked behind some trees so they could sneak in a few more kisses before they got to the school where they would have to pretend nothing was different between them.

 

Pastor Jim had converted one of the small rooms downstairs into a temporary bedroom for Sam.  He knew the young man was doing well enough to handle the stairs, but he thought it would be nice to spare him the added difficulty for at least a few months.  Sam smiled as he packed his clothes into the dresser and then sat on the bed.  He was of course grateful to be spared extra trips up and down the stairs with his cane, but he was even gladder for the fact that he now had a private room, in its own quiet corner of the house.  It would be perfect for stolen moments with Dean.

 

Dean met with Pastor Jim to go over the lesson plans the boys had been working on and get up to speed to begin taking over some classes later in the week.  He insisted on supervising chores for the rest of the week and running Sunday’s service, already feeling too indebted to Jim for everything he’d done during the months Dean was away with Sam.

 

Things quickly fell back into a routine.  Classes, chores, homework, and Sam’s twice weekly PT sessions.  However, nothing stopped the boys from taking full advantage of any spare second they could find to spend alone together.

*        *        *        *        *

Dean heard a knock on his apartment door and was slightly surprised when he opened it to find Sam on his crutches.  The teenager mostly relied on his cane, but sometimes by the end of the day he was tired and sore and he’d switch back to crutches.  Dean supposed after a full day, the trip down the drive from the farmhouse to his apartment was probably too much for him.  He stood back, holding the door open for Sam to pass, closing and locking it behind him.  When he turned back to face Sam, he found heated hazel eyes looking him up and down.

 

“Damn, Father.  All those weeks at rehab, you in jeans, I forgot how hot you look in that collar.”

 

Dean somehow managed to both blush and smirk in response.  He stepped closer to Sam, feeling a dark thrum of arousal deep in his belly as he spoke the next oh-so-inappropriate words.  “Something you need to confess, young man?”

 

A dirty grin spread over Sam’s face; he was more than ready for this game.  He tried to kneel down, but his sore and tired leg wouldn’t cooperate.  He backed toward the sofa.  “Father, I know I’m supposed to kneel to give confession, but…” Sam motioned at his leg.

 

A concerned look flashed across Dean’s face until Sam shut down his worry with a heated look.  

 

“I think, given the circumstances, it should be fine for you to sit.”  Dean took Sam’s crutches as the younger man sat on the couch.  The position put Sam’s face level with Dean’s waist and Sam licked his lips as he looked up through his bangs into Dean’s darkening eyes.   Dean always felt a certain measure of guilt about his vow of celibacy in these moments with Sam, but something about taking it this far, being this defiant, was freeing.  And Sammy was clearly very turned on by this game.    Dean swallowed and when he spoke his already deep voice was raspy.  “You may confess, my child.”

 

“Well, there’s the usual…I’ve lied and stolen.  Taken the Lord’s name in vain.”  Sam paused, and images of Sam naked and hard cursing under Dean’s hands flashed through Dean’s mind.  “But I’m really worried about the thoughts about my brother.”

 

“What kind of thoughts?”

 

“Impure thoughts, Father.”

 

Dean’s voice turned all gravel.  “Oh?”  Sam nodded.  “Maybe…maybe if you confess them your burden will be lifted.”

 

“You want to hear all about my dirty thoughts, Father?”  Sam quirked an eyebrow and his tongue teased out to swipe across his bottom lip.  Dean nodded.  “The problem is my brother is gorgeous.  He’s got these lips…make me think about…” Sam smirked, “…kissing.  All the time.  Just want to feel them on me.”

 

“That does seem like a problem.”

 

“There’s more.  I think about his cock, father.  I can’t stop thinking about it.  I want to touch it.”  Sam’s fingers stretched out inches in front of Dean’s groin where the clear outline of his erection was growing.  “I want to taste it.”  Sam licked his lips as his eyes fixed on the bulge in front of him.  A small whine pushed from Dean’s throat.  “It gets me hard.  And then…then I think about his lips again.  About pushing my dick through them, seeing them stretched around me as he sucks me deep.”

 

Dean’s lips moved in a failed attempt at speech as his brain tried to process the image Sam created.  Sam’s hands came up to rest on Dean’s hips and he looked up to Dean’s face for any signal he should stop.  When he only found lust-darkened eyes and parted lips, his hands moved in slowly until his fingers grasped Dean’s belt.  Slowly, he pulled the leather back through the buckle and clasp, opening it and then dragging the zipper behind it down.  When he was faced with Dean’s hard cock separated from him by only the thin material of his boxer briefs, he leaned forward and mouthed at the hard length.

 

Dean’s head fell back and he moaned at the feeling of Sam’s mouth teasing through fabric.  He needed to feel the sweet wet-hot promise behind the pink lips Sam had used to tease him so many times.  He looked down at his brother. “Sammy,” he breathed out, a request, a plea.  Sam freed Dean’s prick from the cloth and couldn’t stop his own whimper when the glistening head teased across his eager lips.  Sam’s tongue emerged, wide and flat; he licked the tip and when Dean groaned, he opened his mouth and took the head in.

 

The humid warmth of Sam’s mouth and the sight of those sweet lips stretched around him were going to be Dean’s undoing.  He fought to keep his hips from bucking forward and bit his own lower lip between his teeth.  Sam’s long fingers wrapped around Dean’s shaft as Sam began bobbing his head letting a little more of Dean’s length pass his lips with each thrust.

 

There wasn’t any action or thought that was going to stop the impending explosion of Dean’s orgasm.  “Sam, ‘m gonna…” he warned.  

 

Sam only hollowed his cheeks and sped up in response.  He wanted to feel his brother shoot across his tongue; needed to know Dean’s flavor.  Dean’s hips stuttered, and Sam felt the tell-tale signs of orgasm from the organ on his tongue.  Dean’s hand wrapped in Sam’s hair and he fisted the chestnut locks and called Sam’s name as he came. 

 

Sam held Dean on his tongue as he recovered from his orgasm, and when Dean’s eyes began to focus again, he pulled off, tucking his spent dick back into his black pants.  

 

Sam licked swollen lips.  “What should I do, Father?”  Sam asked once again looking up at Dean through long lashes and bangs.  “For penance?”

 

Dean tugged at his collar and took a deep breath.   He  brought his hand to Sam’s head, cupping his jaw, thumb smoothing over slick abused lips.  “One ‘Our Father’ and three ‘Hail Marys’.”  Sam opened his smirking mouth to comply, but Dean interrupted him.  “In Latin.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Sam said with a slow spreading smile.  Dean took his hand from Sam’s face as the teen began.  “Pater noster qui es in coelis.”  Father Winchester watched Sam’s reddened, puffy lips move through near-perfect enunciation of the ancient language.  He leaned down, nose pushing through Sam’s soft hair, until his lips found the soft skin under Sam’s ear.  Dean sucked a kiss into the sensitive spot and Sam stuttered through the next line. “Sanctificetur n-nomen t-t-tuum.”  

 

When the “m” turned into a breathy moan, Dean placed his plush lips against Sam’s ear and whispered, “Continue.”

 

“Adveniat regnum tuuuu-“ This time a bite to Sam’s earlobe stopped his Latin mid-word.

 

Dean’s gravel-toned whisper found Sam’s ear again, “Keep going.  I want you to keep reciting, Samuel.  If you stop, I stop.  Understood?”

 

“Y-yes Father.”  Sam swallowed thickly and took a deep breath and started the next line. “Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in coelo et in terra.”  Dean’s lips continued their work on Sam’s neck, making a path around to the front of his throat as Dean knelt between Sam’s thighs.  “Panem nostrum quotidianum da n-nobis hodie.”  Having Father Winchester knelt down between Sam’s thighs was the beginning to at least three of Sam’s top five fantasies and he couldn’t help the stutter and pause in the Latin.  Sam picked up quickly though when Dean’s lips slowed on his neck and he remembered Dean’s instructions.  

 

“…et dimitte nobis debita nostra,” Dean’s hands traced down Sam’s sides, then curved around to his abs and down to the button-fly of Sam’s jeans.  The first button popped through the eyelet, then the next, until Sam’s erection sprang free.  Dean couldn’t help licking his lips as he leaned forward.

 

“Sicut et nos d-d-dimittimusss debitori-nnngh”  The sensation of air on his hard cock and the sight of Father Winchester on his knees being the one to free it were too much for Sam’s brain and he temporarily forgot all Latin, forgot everything but his need for Dean’s mouth.  But as forewarned, when Sam stopped, Dean stopped, plump lips inches from Sam’s aching prick, so close that when Dean spoke the air from his breath was enough to draw precome from Sam.  

 

“Go on,” Dean prompted and when Sam only stared at him blankly, Dean provided the first few words, “debitoribus nostris.  Et ne…”

 

Sam groaned, those full lips spouting Latin and almost brushing the engorged head of his cock was nearly too much, but certainly enough motivation to pick up Dean’s prompt.  “Et ne nos inducas in tent-Ahh!  Fuck, Dean!”  Dean’s tongue had snuck out to lick the tip of Sam’s dick, but as soon as Sam had broken from his Latin recitation of the Our Father, Dean sat back on his heels.

 

“I’m quite certain that is not part of the Our Father, Sam,” Dean said with a smirk.  “Finish.”

 

Sam growled.  “…in tentationem sed libera nos a malo.  Amen.”  Sam leaned forward and captured Dean’s lips in a kiss, fucking his tongue into Dean’s mouth letting it explore all the soft, warm, wet spaces his dick craved to feel.  He pulled back breathless and aching.  “I finished Father, now your turn.”

 

Dean leaned forward letting his lips brush over Sam’s as he spoke. “You still have your Hail Marys.  Son.”  He nipped at Sam’s pink, swollen bottom lip and pulled back.  “Recite,” he ordered.

 

“Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum.”  Dean traced the waistband of Sam’s jeans around to his back and gently urged Sam’s bottom off the couch so he could pull the pants down.  He slipped Sam’s shoes off and then the jeans, leaving both in a pile on the floor.  “Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus v-ventris t-t-tui, lesus.”  Dean started at his ankles, kissing up first the right and then the left leg.  When his lips reached the single scar on the right leg where Sam’s bone had once broken through, he placed a delicate kiss to the wrinkled skin.  The sensitivity of the spot surprised Sam into stuttering, though he managed to pick back up with little difficulty.

 

“Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nnnnn,” Sam’s Latin devolved into a long moan as Dean’s tongue found the tracks of scars on his left leg.  They zigzagged over his thigh a result of the traction pins and all his surgeries, and Dean traced every one with licks and kisses until it was too much for Sam.  His lungs sucked in air and when Dean’s mouth paused over the highest edge of the last scar, his hands wrapped around Sam’s knees, thumbs stroking the skin, Sam made his distracted brain search for the Latin that would make Dean keep going.

 

“…pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in hora mortis nostrae.”  He surged forward, grabbing Dean’s face in his hands and kissing him.  “Amen.”

 

“Very good, Sam.  Just two more to go.”  Father Winchester smirked as he pulled free of Sam’s hold, wrapping a hand around Sam’s leaking dick.  “Go on.”

 

Sam flopped back against the couch and groaned, he almost couldn’t believe his brother was still insisting on finishing this game, but when Dean froze in place, blinking up at Sam through long lashes, Sam knew he had to keep going.  He cursed under his breath, which only brought another smirk to Dean’s lips.

 

“Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum.  Bene – Ahhhh!”  Sam had intended to speed through the prayer to be done with it, but when Dean’s hot wet mouth finally engulfed his aching cock his mind was devoid of every thought but pleasure.  Somewhere, some tiny piece of his brain still functioning knew he needed to continue reciting if he wanted Dean to continue so he dragged the Latin words out and forced them from his mouth.

  
“Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et-et…ngh!”  Dean’s mouth continued to work his cock perfectly, tongue tracing veins, teasing into his slit and sliding around the lip into the bundle of nerves hiding there.  Sam needed Dean to keep going, suck him down further.  “…et benedictus fructus ventris tui lesus. Mmmmm.”  Sam moaned as Dean hollowed out his cheeks and bobbed his head taking Sam further and further in on each pass.

 

“Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunnnn-nunc et – Ahhhh – in hora mortis nostrae.  Aaaammenn!”  Fuck, but Father Winchester had a talented mouth and Sam was so close, he could feel the tingle in his heavy balls and he rushed into the last recitation of Hail Mary.

 

“Ave Mmmaria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum.  B-b-beneee- benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictussss.  Fuck!” Sam’s cockhead edged into the back of Dean’s throat and everything in Sam wanted to come but as soon as he’d stopped the Latin prayer, Dean had frozen, so Sam pushed on.

 

“…benedictus fructus ventris tui, lesus.  Ahhhh, fuck, Deannn!”  Sam panted and swallowed.  “Sancta Maria, Mater D-dei, ora p-pro nnn-n-nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in horamortisnostrae.”  Sam rushed through the last few words slurring them together as he felt his orgasm beginning to crest.  Dean’s lips were stretched taut around him and his cock was breaching Dean’s throat again.  He was so close, and then as he opened his mouth to drop the final word, Dean swallowed around him and he was coming hard and endless into Dean’s mouth.  

 

Dean pulled off, swiping spit and come from his chin as he sat back on his heels again.  “Amen.”

 

Sam rasped out a laugh as he tried to catch his breath.

*        *        *        *        *

Sam and Dean were careful about where they chose to indulge in stolen kisses and touches, but as a month turned into two they fell into a routine and the paranoia eased up enough to let them breathe.  They still made sure to lock doors and double check for prying eyes, but sometimes Sam would steal a kiss after everyone had emptied from the classroom or in the barn during chores when everyone else was busy.   Dean probably worried more about getting caught than Sam, but like any young man in a new relationship, sometimes Dean just couldn’t keep his hands off the object of his new desires.

 

Since Father Winchester had his own apartment far enough away from the farmhouse to prevent spying from the boys, and Sam had a private room now, they were able to find time to themselves.  The twice weekly physical therapy sessions that Dean drove Sam to and from also gave them the perfect excuse to sneak off campus together.  Often they’d slip into town and eat at the diner before returning to the school.  They’d found a perfect spot tucked away behind trees just off the road that hid the Impala and they’d done plenty of kissing and more, stretched out in Baby’s roomy back seat.

 

They were returning from Sam’s second PT session for the week and Dean walked him to his room.  Sam sat on his bed as they were saying their goodbyes and Dean placed his hands on Sam’s thighs as he leaned down so they could kiss.  Sam’s door flew open without warning and Jonathon burst in.  Dean jumped back, eyes wide and heart racing.

 

“Sam, I have an extra assignment for you from Pastor Jim.”  He looked over as if finally realizing Father Winchester was there.  “Oh, hey, Father.  What are you doing here?”

 

Sam was pretty sure Jonathon hadn’t seen anything since Dean had lightning fast reflexes and Jonathon had been looking down at his papers as he’d come into the room, but Dean was definitely spooked.  “He takes me to physical therapy every week.  We just got back and since it tires me out, he helped me get my stuff back to my room.  Right Father?”

 

Dean nodded, his fair skin even paler.  “R-right.  You’re settled now, and I can see that you’ve got homework to attend to.  Thanks, Jonathon.  Goodnight, Samuel.”  Dean managed to force himself to make eye contact with Jonathon, but couldn’t bring himself to look in Sam’s direction before he hurried back out the door.  

 

An hour later Dean was still pacing his small apartment.  What had he been thinking, sneaking around like that with Sam right here at the school?  He’d lose his job; he’d be kicked out of the priesthood.  But when he thought of giving up Sam, he felt so much pain he lost all sense as to how he should proceed.

 

In the midst of this confusion there was a knock at his door.  He opened it to find Sam, and while he wasn’t exactly surprised, he questioned the intelligence of Sam coming to his apartment right after such a close call.  Sam stepped through the door and closed it behind him, making a big show of locking it.  Sam took one look at his brother and his heart broke. 

 

“Dean,” Sam pleaded as he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Dean’s strong back.  He kept his arms around Dean’s shoulders but pulled his face back enough to look into Dean’s eyes as he spoke.  “Dean, it’s ok.  Jonathon didn’t see anything, he doesn’t suspect anything.  He acted completely normal after you left.  It’s fine.  We’re safe.”

 

Dean let his forehead rest against Sam’s for a moment.  He was not ready to face the reality of choosing between his love for Sam and his love for his work as a priest and teacher.  “I want that to be true, Sam.  I want nothing more than for us to be safe.  Together.”

 

Sam felt a lump begin to form in his throat; he feared he knew where Dean was going with this.  He was familiar with the signs of someone about to leave him.  He swallowed the lump and fought back his tears.  He loved Dean, and he would not give up easily.  “It **is** true, Dean.  It is.  Please.”  His voice cracked and he hated himself for the small show of weakness.

 

“No, Sammy.  It’s not.  As long as we’re sneaking around here I run the risk of losing my job.  Losing my collar.  And you.  Sam, if they catch us, you’re back into foster care and they’ll make sure I never see you again.”

 

“Dean, I’m 17 and in a few months I’ll be 18.  They can’t keep me in foster care.  And they sure as hell can’t keep me from you.”  Dean didn’t answer, but Sam saw a single tear make a track down his brother’s face.  “Fine, then let’s leave.  Let’s just go, Dean.  You’re a great teacher, you can find a job somewhere and I can finish high school anywhere.  I can go to college, you can keep working.  No one has to know we’re brothers.”  He pushed forward to kiss Dean, saline on both their lips.  

 

“God, Sammy.  I want that.  Want to be with you more than anything, but I just…I can’t see how it would all work.”

 

Sam’s body stiffened in Dean’s arms.  “Fine.  Just forget it.  I see it now.”

 

Dean looked up to see Sam’s face twisted in an angry scowl.  “What are you talking about?”  Dean asked.

 

“I thought I meant more to you, but clearly not.  If I ever meant anything to you; if I meant half as much to you as you do to me, you’d never let this go.  You’d do anything to be with me.”  Tears streamed down Sam’s angry face as he continued.  “You _used_ me. How many boys have you done this with, huh?”

 

Now it was Dean’s turn to get angry.  “Now, that’s enough, Samuel.  You know that’s not true.  I’ve never touched another student.  And of course I care for you.”

 

“Care for me?!  _Care_?!  I’m talking about _love_ and you say you _care_?  Fuck you, Father Winchester.”

 

Sam stormed out and slammed the door behind him before Dean could get a handle on what exactly had just happened.

 

 

 

[ Chapter 10 ](http://deansdirtybb.livejournal.com/18846.html)   



	11. Faith, Love, and Sin - Chapter 10

** Chapter 10 **

It crushed Sam to stay away from Dean, but he kept his distance as much as he possibly could.  The only thing that hurt more than being apart from Dean, was having to see him.  It had been a Saturday when Sam had left Dean alone in his apartment, so he had a full day without classes and thankfully his chores were in the house.  He was pretty sure it was Pastor Jim’s turn to run the Sunday service, but Sam skipped it just to be safe.

 

The last thing Sam wanted to do was drag his broken heart to class Monday morning to watch Dean and his stupid lips teach.  But now more than ever Sam knew he needed to graduate and keep his grades up enough to hopefully score a scholarship.  So he heaved a sigh and dragged himself down the hall to the classrooms of the farmhouse.

 

He saw Dean before Dean saw him; the priest’s face was pinched, shoulders tense, and he had dark circles under his eyes.  For a moment, Sam felt the urge to wrap Dean in his arms and kiss the lines on his face until they smoothed away.  The surge of love and empathy was short-lived as the memory of how easy it had been for Dean to drop him returned to the surface.  Sam set his jaw, looked straight ahead and walked to his seat in the back of the room.  If Dean wasn’t committed to him, then Sam refused to be his temporary distraction.

 

Father Winchester stood hunched forward, hands resting on his desk, his entire body feeling strung tight enough to snap.  His head pounded and his stomach was in knots.  He hadn’t seen Sam since the boy had stormed out of Dean’s apartment two days ago, nor had he been able to find a moment’s rest.  The idea that Sam actually believed that Dean didn’t love him was killing Dean.  He could not wrap his mind around how Sam could honestly think that Dean didn’t feel a soul-deep connection; Dean had been willing to risk everything just to be with his brother.  How could Sam not see how much he meant to Dean?

 

He managed to stumble through teaching geometry, hoping to catch Sam at the end of class.  As soon as he dismissed the boys, Sam was one of the first to hurry out of the room without so much as making eye contact with Dean.  The rest of the day’s classes passed the same way, and by the end of the day on Tuesday, Dean had reached the end of what he could tolerate.  At the conclusion of the final class of the day, Dean announced that he needed to meet with a couple of students regarding assignments and that Jonathon and Sam should stay behind.

 

Sam rolled his eyes, and Dean knew he’d seen right through Dean’s flimsy story.  Dean grabbed Jonathon first, reviewed a missed problem from his geometry exam and then dismissed him, leaving Dean alone with Sam for the first time since their argument.

 

“Was there a problem with my assignment, Father Winchester?” Sam asked, voice flat and face giving no sign of the emotion underneath.

 

“No,” Dean answered and Sam turned to go.  Dean put a hand on his arm to stop him.  “Sam, wait.  I need to talk to you.”  Sam yanked out of Dean’s hold and crossed his arms over his chest.  He met Dean’s gaze, eyes cold and steady, lips pressed into a thin line. 

 

Everything about Sam’s body language was telling Dean to fuck off, but Dean knew it was hurt, not anger, fueling this reaction in the younger man.  Dean wanted to reach out and pull Sam’s rigid body against his, smooth his hands over the tense muscles and rain kisses over his face until the boy relaxed and let Dean comfort him.

 

“Well, talk,” Sam demanded.

 

“Sammy –“ 

 

“Sam.”

 

Dean closed his eyes against the unexpected stab of pain that small but important rejection caused.  He took a deep, shaky breath and started over.  “Sam, I’m sorry.  What I said the other day…I–I didn’t mean…I never wanted to hurt you.  Ever.”  Sam arched an eyebrow but said nothing, so Dean stumbled on.  “You have to know what you mean to me.”  Dean walked around to stand face to face with Sam, his wet moss-green eyes searching out Sam’s gaze.  “Sam,” Dean whispered.

 

Sam’s shoulders slumped and his arms fell to his sides.  He could see the pain in Dean’s eyes and he wanted to believe something could fix this; that he didn’t have to lose Dean.  When Dean’s hand came up to cup Sam’s cheek, Sam didn’t pull away. 

 

“Sam, I love you.”  Tears stung Sam’s eyes and he nuzzled into the hand on his face.  He sniffled, but still couldn’t find words as Dean went on.  “I want to be with you more than I can say.  I never…I never expected to find…” Dean trailed off, not sure how to say everything that was in his heart.

 

Tears were slowly spilling from Sam’s eyes, down his cheeks, and as much as he’d thought it would help to hear those words from Dean, they only made it worse.  “I love you, too, Dean.  But those are just words.  They don’t mean anything unless you put action behind them.  I want to be with you, want more than anything to be together…but not like this.  Half-in, half-out…ready to bail as soon as it gets complicated.”  

 

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Sam pulled away from Dean’s touch and held up his own hand to silence his brother.  “It’s going to be complicated, Dean.  For so many reasons.  And I feel myself waiting for you to leave.  I won’t do that: wait around to be dumped.  So, please, just stop talking about it.  No more words.”

 

Without waiting for a response, Sam picked up his bag from the floor and left Dean reeling.  

*        *        *        *        *

Later that night Dean sat alone in his apartment, the only light in the room coming from the old desk lamp.  He’d spent hours hunched over one of his antique books looking for an answer to a stubborn hunt for one of Caleb’s friends, but he wasn’t getting far.  His brain continued turning his conversation with Sam over and over again, looking for the answer to his own problem.

 

He was interrupted by a rap on his door so gentle he nearly missed it.  “Come in, it’s open,” he called, too weary to bother getting up to check the knocker’s I.D. properly.  He turned his head to see Pastor Jim step through the door and quietly snick it shut behind him.  Jim patted Dean on the shoulder once softly before easing himself down onto the old sofa.

 

“Everything okay, Pastor Jim?”

 

“I was about to ask you the same question.  What’s wrong, son?”

 

Dean sighed and turned back to the book on the desk, not feeling even remotely like he could discuss his problems with Sam with the elder man, but unable to lie either.  Jim knew him better than anyone and of course he would pick up on Dean’s anguish.  

 

“Is this about your brother?”  Dean didn’t answer, but the hitch in his breathing gave him away.  He braced himself, sure Pastor Jim had figured out his incestuous involvement with Sam.

 

Jim took a deep breath, speaking slowly and choosing his words carefully.  He wanted to help Dean, but he, better than anyone, understood how deep the still waters of Dean Winchester’s emotions ran, and how easily the young man could spook and shut down.  “I’ve seen a change in you over the last year.  I’ve watched your big, broken heart slowly heal, and witnessed you absorb the lesson of how to open that heart…to family you thought you’d lost forever.”

 

Dean had slowly turned in his chair until he finally sat facing Pastor Jim, who was leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, warm brown eyes focused on Dean, gauging his every reaction.  Jim’s lips spread in a small, slow smile before he continued.  “Sam has done that for you.  And the changes I’ve seen in that boy are nothing short of astounding.  You two, you needed each other…and despite all the reasons not to – all the hurt and pain and lies – you and your brother, you not only found each other, you helped each other find yourselves.  I don’t know that I’ve ever seen two souls so lost, find their way.”

 

A tear clung to the bottom lid of Dean’s eye, and he sniffed gently as the pastor continued, “I’m not sure what’s changed in the last few days, Dean, but you are both miserable.  You’ve been avoiding each other, and it’s tormenting you both.  Sam is set to graduate at the end of the year…he’ll go away to college…and, Dean, I-I think that’s great, I don’t know that anyone would have believed that the angry boy who came to us last year would be headed for college and most likely on a scholarship – but, I fear what it’s going to do to you, both of you, when you’re separated again.”

 

Dean’s voice wavered as he spoke.  “That boy’s better off without me.  Besides, what do you expect me to do?  My life…I have devoted everything to the priesthood, this school, _these boys_.  This is where I belong.”  There was so little conviction in the last sentence that not even Dean believed it.  His head fell forward, hanging low.

 

Jim shook his head.  “I know this for sure: that boy is _not_ better off without you.  Nor you without him.  And there is more than one way to serve, to help youth find their way in life.  Inside and _outside_ the priesthood.”

 

Dean’s head shot up as he looked at Pastor Jim with wide eyes.  He could no longer tell if Jim knew about his relationship with Sam, but it felt like it didn’t matter to Jim what the relationship was, only that it was good for both young men.  Jim stood and crossed the room, warm hand landing on Dean’s shoulder again.  “You are always, always welcome here, son.  But, don’t let a feeling of obligation keep you from an opportunity, keep you from what could be your destiny.  Any child you raise, you hope one day he has the strength, confidence to leave the nest.  Even if it hurts to watch them fly.”

 

Dean put his hand over Pastor Jim’s and looked up, his teary green eyes meeting the wet brown gaze looking on him with love and pride.  “Thanks, Jim.  I can’t…” Dean trailed off not sure how to express everything Jim and his words meant to Dean.

 

“I know, son.  I know.”  Jim patted Dean’s shoulder once before walking quietly back out the door.

 

Dean sat in his chair staring at the closed door for a long while before turning around and closing his book.  He walked toward the bathroom, shucking his clothes along the way.  As he stood under the hot spray of the shower, Jim’s words played over and again in his head.  They looped around as he dried off and climbed under his covers, and Sam’s words joined them, until they all began to come together in Dean’s head.  And Dean knew what he needed to do.  Just words?  ‘I love you’ wasn’t just words to Dean Winchester, and now he knew how to prove that to Sam.

*        *        *        *        *

Father Winchester spoke to Pastor Jim early the next morning before classes started.  It was two weeks before Thanksgiving break, and for Dean to execute his plan, he needed some time.  Pastor Jim didn’t even ask for an explanation, just granted Dean the next two weeks off and asked if he needed anything else.  

 

Dean smiled, “Just one other thing.”  He held out an envelope.  “Could you give this to Sam?  Make sure he knows I am coming back.”  Dean wanted badly to talk to Sam himself, but he already knew Sam wouldn’t listen.  He hoped his little brother might listen to Jim, and that he would actually read the letter.

 

“Of course.  And I’ll keep an eye on him for you while you’re away.”  A rare mischievous smile overtook Jim’s face, “No ladders this time, I promise.”

 

“Very funny,” Dean laughed, and then his face sobered again.  “Seriously, Jim, thank you.”  Dean stepped forward and pulled the older man into a hug. “For everything.”  

 

Jim was caught off guard by the display of emotion from the normally stoic young man, but it only took a split second for him to begin hugging Dean back.  “I will always be here for you, Son.”

 

Dean patted Jim’s back as he pulled back from the embrace.  “See you in three weeks.”

*        *        *        *        *

Sam lay on his back in his bed, turning the envelope over in his hands.  Dean had left, hadn’t even said goodbye.  Pastor Jim had explained that Dean had had to leave quickly but that he would return.  Sam sighed and rolled over onto his side, holding the envelope out in front of him, staring at his name in Dean’s handwriting.  It was probably his fault Dean hadn’t come to see him; after their last conversation, Sam was surprised Dean would even leave him a letter, or ask Pastor Jim to explain anything.

 

He rolled his eyes at what a colossal girl he was being about this whole thing, sat up and ripped open the envelope.

 

_ Sammy, _   
_ I’m sorry I had to leave without talking to you.  I can never apologize enough for hurting you, it’s the last thing I ever wanted.  I do love you…and I’ll be back by the end of Thanksgiving break to show you just how much. _

_                                                                                    Dean _

 

 

 

 

 

[ Chapter 11 ](http://deansdirtybb.livejournal.com/19072.html)


	12. Faith, Love, and Sin - Chapter 11

** Chapter 11 **

Sam tried to keep himself busy, hoping that if his brain, or at least his hands, were occupied enough he wouldn’t count down the days and hours until Dean returned.  Of course it was all futile; the only things his mind could focus on were his brother and that letter.

 

Damn that letter.  Before Pastor Jim had placed it in Sam’s hand, before Sam had been stupid enough to actually open it, Sam nearly had himself convinced he would be fine without Dean.  He’d lost everyone in his life that ever meant anything to him in one way or another, and though this would by far be the most painful loss, at least it had been on Sam’s terms.  Sam was sure he had extinguished the flame of hope lit by his and Dean’s love, but a tiny ember must have remained, and Dean’s promise had fanned it until Sam’s brain burned with it.

 

The two weeks preceding Thanksgiving break he managed to struggle through.  Each day trudged along at less than a snail’s pace, but eventually the sun would set and Sam could tick off another day on his internal calendar.  There were classes and chores, and in the little bit of down time he had he could usually find at least one of the guys to distract him with a video game, study session or conversation.  

 

However, time crashed to a screeching halt once classes ended for Thanksgiving break.  Everyone but Sam and two other boys went home, and the silence around the farmhouse taunted him.  He was grateful for the paper Pastor Jim had assigned to be due the week after break ended, but he was so desperate for distraction that he finished it in two days.  He tried reading, but after a sentence or two the words swam around in his mind making it impossible to get through a page let alone a chapter.  He volunteered to help Pastor Jim with the extra chores, and the physical labor was much more helpful in burning off his nervous energy, but the tasks were largely mindless and left him plenty of time to ponder Dean’s whereabouts and the meaning of the letter.

 

Eventually the final day of break dawned and Sam gave up on the hope that it would pass with any kind of speed.  He resigned himself to a day that would spread before him like an eternity and plodded through it one second at a time.  More than once he caught himself staring at a clock literally watching seconds tick away, and a few times checking his watch to make sure it hadn’t stopped.  

 

He couldn’t stop trying to figure out when Dean would return.  He’d only said before break was over, and classes were set to resume the next day.  His mind flicked back and forth between thinking he was an idiot for believing Dean’s letter, and looking out every window he passed for any sign of Dean’s car, ear’s straining to hear it’s now familiar rumble.

 

By the time he sat down to dinner he was half-convinced time was starting to move backwards.  As he shoveled another bite of food into his mouth chewing it into a flavorless lump he looked up at the clock on the wall over Pastor Jim’s head and forced himself to ignore the understanding smile on the old man’s face.  When the meal ended without a knock on the door or a creak of an old car door, Sam took Jim up on his offer to do the dishes and shuffled to his room, collapsing on the bed and using his last ounce of energy to resist pouting.

 

Sam had just pulled Dean’s letter out of his journal to stare at his brother’s handwriting one more time when he heard it:  The distant roar had to be the engine of Dean’s Impala.  All that nervous energy he’d been trying to contain for weeks burst to the surface and Sam stood from his bed, grabbed his cane and made his way to the window in the living room that looked down the driveway.  He couldn’t see all the way to the church and Dean’s apartment, but he was sure he saw headlights flicker through the trees and then cut out.  He suddenly had no idea what to do with himself, he wasn’t sure if Dean would want to see him right away…or if he wanted to see Dean right away.  Sam walked back to his bedroom and began pacing the small room with his cane.  

 

About 40 minutes, or maybe an aeon later, Sam’s phone rang, and though he pounced on it right away, he made himself wait for the third ring before he picked it up.

 

“Sam?”  Dean’s voice sounded as small and unsure as Sam felt.

 

“Yeah, Dean, it’s me.”

 

“I’m sorry it’s so late…I meant to be back last night, but I had a few things to wrap up and I just couldn’t get here until tonight.  If you’d rather see me tomorrow, I understand – I mean, if you want to see me at all.  I hope you’ll see me, Sammy.”

 

Sam closed his eyes and swallowed, he couldn’t ignore the way hearing that name on Dean’s lips still affected him.  “Just give me 10 minutes; I’ll come down to your apartment.”  

 

Sam could hear the smile in Dean’s voice when he answered.  “Of course.  I’ll be waiting.”

*        *        *        *        *

Fourteen minutes and 37 seconds later, Sam stood outside the church trying to catch his breath from what he refused to call his run down the driveway – well, as close to a run as he could manage with his cane.  He took several deep breaths, willing his lungs and heart to slow, and pushed his hands through his hair.  Sam wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, pulled in one more steadying deep breath and knocked on Dean’s door.

 

Dean sat on his sofa staring at the wrapped package in front of him, hoping everything he’d worked on over the last three weeks wouldn’t be for naught.  When he heard the knock on the door he was across the room with his hand on the doorknob before the third tap.  He flung the door open to see Sam standing on his doorstep, eyes wide and mouth open in surprise for a minute and then quickly morphing into a shy smile as his head dropped, shaggy hair falling over his face.

 

“Sammy,” Dean breathed, relieved to finally have Sam in front of him and apparently willing to hear him out.  Dean’s arms ached to pull Sam in close, bury his nose in Sam’s warm neck and breathe in his scent.

 

“Hey Dean,” Sam said, and his voice sounded so unsure that Dean didn’t dare to touch him for fear he’d spook the teen.  

 

Dean swallowed at the reminder of where things had been left between them and he looked down at the ground as he spoke.  “C-come on in.  Uh, have-have a seat.”  He motioned at the sofa and Sam nodded, mumbling a “thanks” as he lowered himself onto the cushion.  Dean pulled over the chair from his desk to sit facing Sam, their knees almost touching.

 

Sam looked up at Dean expectantly, and though Dean had had a speech all prepared his mind was suddenly blank.  He kept hearing Sam say, _No more words_ , in his head and he knew the words he’d so carefully prepared weren’t going to be what would make a difference to Sam.  If anything would get Sam to see how much he meant to Dean, it would be the contents of the box he’d spent the last three weeks putting together.

 

Dean looked down to the box he held in his hands, simply wrapped in blue paper and tied with a green ribbon.  He looked up to meet Sam’s eyes, “Sam…I know no more words can fix things.  But I need to say it one more time…I’m sorry I hurt you…and Sammy, I love you.  So much.”

 

Sam sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, he’d really hoped this wouldn’t become another version of the conversation they’d already had.  He couldn’t bear it; it hurt too much to keep losing Dean over and over.  “Dean, I know…I just…it doesn’t –”

 

Dean cut Sam off before he had to hear Sam say one more time that it wasn’t enough.  “No more words, Sam.  Here.” Dean held out the package to his brother, “I spent the last three weeks _doing_.  Just, please, open it before you make up your mind?”

 

Sam tilted his head to the side as he took in the honesty in Dean’s face.  The open vulnerability in those green eyes hooked him and he reached out to accept the gift from Dean’s shaking hands.  “Ok, Dean.”  

 

Sam set the box in his lap and his hands shook slightly as he carefully pulled the paper away.  He wanted nothing more than for whatever was in this box to change things, but he couldn’t imagine a gift Dean could give him that would erase all the obstacles to their relationship, or that would make Dean better equipped to handle them.  He took a deep breath and lifted the lid to peer inside the box.

 

When his eyes fell on the contents he looked up at Dean, brow furrowed quizzically and head tilted again.  “Dean?”  He was looking at a stack of papers, documents of some kind.

 

“Just read them,” Dean prompted hopefully.

 

Sam lifted the first sheet from the box and held it in front of him.  It was a deed…to a house in Illinois…in Dean’s name.  When Sam looked closer, he saw a second owner listed – Samuel Campbell.  His mouth dropped open and his hand flew up to cover the gape.  Dean had bought them a house?  In Illinois?  Sam’s brain grappled with the information, but he couldn’t make his wheels turn fast enough to make sense of this.  “Dean…I-I don’t…What is…?” 

 

Dean smiled, though his nervousness was still etched into every muscle of his body and line on his face.  “Keep going, I’ll explain.”

 

The next sheet Sam lifted was an enrollment form in Evanston Township High School.  It too was in Sam’s name.  He frowned up at Dean; things were making less sense to him, not more.  Was Dean sending him away?  Surely Dean didn’t think running away would fix everything.  Dean motioned for Sam to keep going, and he picked up the next document.  It was a contract, to be a history teacher at Evanston Township High School, for Mr. Dean Winchester.  Mister?  But Dean wasn’t Mr. Winchester, he was _Father_ Winchester.  Not even bothering to look to his brother in question this time, Sam snatched up the next paper from the pile.  It was a letter, well, a photocopy of a letter.  Sam immediately recognized Dean’s handwriting, and as he read the words, his mouth fell open further and his stomach dropped through his feet.

 

… _The church has meant so much to me, and I will never be able to adequately express my gratitude for what it has given me.  However, at this time I must submit my request to resign from the priesthood.  My life has developed in a way I never imagined, and I will be rescinding my position at Blue Earth to pursue a career teaching_ ….

 

The letter continued on, but Sam had already dropped it back into the box.  Both hands covered his mouth as he stared at Dean, hazel eyes impossibly wide.  He pushed his hands back through his hair and just looked at Dean.  His brain had stopped even attempting to process the contents of Dean’s gift and now he needed to hear Dean’s explanation.

 

Dean took a deep breath and looked for a place to start in the explanation he had promised Sam.  “I told you I wanted to be with you, more than anything…but you were right, Sam, words don’t mean anything without action behind them.” He paused to look at Sam, deep into his swirling hazel eyes, “So, I took action, Sammy.  It just, it won’t work for us to be together here, so when I started working out the way for us to be together, it started with leaving.”

 

“But, Dean, you love this place…the school… _Pastor Jim_.  I don’t want you to give up everything –”

 

Dean cut Sam off again, taking Sam’s hands into his own. “I’m not giving up everything, Sammy, I’m making changes to keep the one thing, the only thing, that truly matters this deeply to me.  You.  What I love about this place is serving…teaching…helping these kids.  So, I found a job teaching.  And Pastor Jim, he understands, and just because I move away doesn’t mean he won’t still be an important part of my life.”  Dean paused, letting the information sink in for Sam.

 

Sam’s mind struggled to recover from the impact of the completely unexpected information, but when Dean wrapped his strong hands around Sam’s, the touch brought an immediate sense of comfort.  His brain calmed enough for him to work through the information.  Dean wanted them to be together enough, wanted Sam enough, to change his entire life.  This was so much more than a few words whispered between them.  Sam’s heart swelled and he couldn’t stop the tears that trickled free.  Dean loved him.

 

Dean’s shoulders relaxed as soon as he saw Sam smile through the tears that had tracked through his dimples.  He smiled at the younger man as he squeezed his hands, and Sam leaned forward, pressing a tentative kiss to Dean’s lips.  Dean’s hand gently cupped the back of Sam’s head as he carefully kissed him back, letting their foreheads rest together after.  “Love you, Sammy,” Dean whispered.

 

“I love you too, Dean.”  Sam closed his eyes against the overwhelming wave of emotions.  He just breathed in and out for a minute, before opening his eyes again and gently pulling from Dean’s hold.  “Why Illinois?”

 

Dean chuckled a little.  “Well, I…I plan to keep hunting, or at least keep helping with hunts.  I can’t give that up.”

 

Sam broke in to say, “I wouldn’t want you to, Dean.”

 

“So, I wanted a sort of central state.  And Northwestern has a great pre-law program…I remembered you said you wanted to be a lawyer…work in family court to help other kids that ‘nobody wanted.’”  Dean parroting back words Sam had only tossed out once in a conversation Sam could barely even recall touched his already raw and overwhelmed heart.

 

“You remembered that?”

 

“’Course I did, Sammy.”  Dean smiled, and cupped Sam’s jaw in his hand, running his thumb over the high cheekbone.   “There’s one more thing in the box.”

 

Sam jumped like a kid at Christmas, pulling out the papers he’d already read to get to the bottom of the box.  There was another small, flat box and Sam pulled it out, dropped the larger box to the floor and slowly pulled the top from the small box.  Inside, resting on white cotton batting were two silver rings.  Sam took in a sharp breath as he looked up at Dean, brow furrowed once again.

 

“The other reason I picked Illinois is…the age of consent is 17.  I know you’re young…and I don’t mean tomorrow…but someday, Sammy…someday I want to marry you.  I want us to have our whole lives together.  So these are just…sort of a promise…that I won’t ever give you up, won’t ever give up on you and that I will always _show_ you how much you mean to me.”  Dean’s face had blushed bright red under his freckles, and Sam couldn’t think of anything he’d ever found more adorable.

 

“Yes.”  Sam said, wide dimpled grin spreading across his face.

 

“Yes?”  Dean asked.  “Yes to what?”

 

Sam laughed and leaned forward to throw his hands around Dean’s neck.  “To all of it.  Yes to moving away with you, yes to marrying you…someday.  Yes to you, Dean.  Yes to us.”

 

Dean threw his head back, laughing and whooping.  He stood from his chair, bringing Sam up with him.  Sam laughed with his brother, wrapping his long arms around Dean’s broad shoulders.  It was almost more than he could believe, everything he could have hoped for, wrapped up in a box.  

 

As soon as Sam’s feet returned to the ground, he wrapped his large hands around Dean’s head and pulled him into a bone-shaking kiss.  The power and emotion in it left them both breathless and tingling and as their lips parted, Sam murmured, “I think you’d better lock that door.”

 

Dean groaned low in his throat as he reluctantly pulled from Sam’s arms to lock the door, throwing the deadbolt as well, just to be sure.  He made the trip back to Sam in two giant strides and wrapped the young man up in his arms, pushing them both towards the bedroom.  Their lips continued to slide together, tongues twisting and dancing as tangled legs made their way to the bed.  Sam freed one long leg enough to kick the bedroom door shut as they passed through.

 

As soon as they stood next to Dean’s bed, their hands flew to each other’s clothes, popping buttons through button-holes, dragging zippers down and pushing away fabric until Sam and Dean faced each other, Dean in his boxer briefs and Sam naked since he still went without underwear most days.

 

Sam leaned forward, hands resting on Dean’s hips as he licked up the line of freckles on the side of Dean’s neck.  When his mouth reached Dean’s ear his tongue traced the shell and he whispered, “God, I missed you, Dean.”

 

“Missed you too, Sammy.  Nnngh!”  Dean moaned as Sam’s lips found their way to a particularly sensitive spot on his neck.  

 

Sam licked down Dean’s throat, sucking at the skin over his collarbone.  “So good…gonna taste every inch of you, Dean.  Every. Inch.”  He punctuated each of the last words with an open-mouthed kiss to warm skin.  Sam laved his tongue over freckled shoulders and down past the tattoo on Dean’s chest, stopping to close his mouth over a sensitive nipple.  He teased the bud until Dean was panting with pleasure and then Sam gently pushed Dean down on the bed.  

 

Dean scooted back onto the mattress and then surged up to bring Sam’s mouth back to his for another kiss.  Dean sucked Sam’s tongue into his mouth as he pulled Sam down on top him.  Sam braced himself over Dean, weight resting on his arms as he lay between Dean’s legs, his naked dick pressing against Dean’s hard length through the fabric of boxer briefs now damp with precome.  The kiss deepened as they searched out friction rutting against each other.

 

Sam yanked back from the kiss breathlessly and forced himself to stop grinding against Dean, pushing up onto all fours and hushing Dean’s answering whimper of protest.  He bent his head to Dean’s chest and kissed a line down his abs, looking up at Dean through his bangs as his lips met the golden trail of hair disappearing under the waistband of Dean’s underwear.  Sam’s fingers hooked under the band and Dean lifted his hips so Sam could pull them free.

 

The boxer briefs were tossed onto the floor as Sam returned to his path towards Dean’s cock.  He licked up the underside, dipping his tongue into the slit when he reached the head.  Dean moaned above him as Sam wrapped his lips around the head, sucking briefly before pulling off to let the blood-heavy organ slap wetly against Dean’s belly.  Sam grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and urged Dean’s hips into the air again to push it underneath his brother.  

 

“Sammy…what are-“ Dean’s question was cut off by a surprised moan when he felt Sam’s tongue tease over the sensitive skin of his balls.  Sam licked over each one before sucking them gently into his mouth as Dean slowly came apart above him.  

 

“Every inch, Dean,” Sam said as he released the tender flesh.  His mouth continued down, tongue licking over the skin of his perineum and then back further.

 

Dean threw his head back and his hands fisted in the sheets when he felt the hot wet tip of Sam’s tongue at his entrance.  He teased and licked and traced around the furled muscle until it relaxed enough to press inside.  Sam soaked up the sounds of the steady stream of moans and broken words Dean let out between panted breaths as his tongue fucked in and out of Dean’s hole.  

 

Dean’s mind was lost to the utter bliss of sensation in his body created by Sam’s mouth.   Sounds he couldn’t even be sure were words babbled from his parted lips, his hips undulating back against Sam’s face.  Sam continued to alternate fucking his tongue into Dean with licking and sucking at his rim until Dean finally found a single word.  “More,” he breathed out, and then, “Please…Sammy….n-need more.”

 

A lascivious smile curled Sam’s lips, he was only too happy to comply with Dean’s request, but he needed to be certain of what Dean really wanted.  “You sure?”

 

There was no hesitation from Dean.  “Yes!  _God_ , yes.  I’m sure.”

 

Sam thrust his tongue in and out of Dean a few more times before pulling back to ask, “Do you want more of this?  Or something else?”  Dean only whimpered in response.  Sam placed a kiss to Dean’s inner thigh, “Need you to use your words, Dean.  Give it to you, whatever you want…but if we’re going to do this, I need to know for sure it’s what you want.”

 

Dean heaved a few breaths, finally forcing his mouth to create words.  “F-fingers.  Want your fingers.”

 

Sam cursed under his breath as his cock twitched at hearing those words on Dean’s plush lips.

 

Dean reached to the nightstand and pulled a small bottle out dropping it near Sam’s head.  When Sam saw it was lube he quirked an eyebrow at his brother who just shrugged as he blushed ever so slightly.  Sam grinned and flicked open the cap, pouring some onto his fingers.  

 

Sam traced his finger around the softened rim of Dean’s hole and then pushed it in to the first knuckle, giving Dean a beat to catch his breath before pushing in the rest of the way.  He returned the attentions of his tongue to Dean’s balls and enjoyed the sounds coming from Dean above him.  Minutes later Dean was again moaning out, “More.  _Please_ , Sam, more.”

 

Sam added a second finger, fucking them in and out of Dean’s channel until he felt it relax enough to crook his long fingers forward into the sensitive bundle of nerves.  Dean cried out as his back arched up from the bed and the sight of Dean coming apart so thoroughly beneath him made Sam’s already hard cock leak.

 

“Sammy,” Dean pleaded above him.  “Want more...want-want you.”

 

“You got me, Dean.  ‘M right here.”

 

Dean shook his head, bringing his eyes to meet Sam’s.  The green had darkened and all but disappeared around the lust-widened pupil, but Sam could still see the plea there.  “No…want _you_ …inside me.”

 

Sam swallowed hard.  Just the thought of what Dean was asking had him so near to coming that he had to grip the base of his cock tight.  “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath.  He leaned up over Dean’s body, faces even and hazel eyes searching out the emotions in his brother’s eyes.  “Dean, I-I need to know-I want you so bad, but only if you’re ready for this.  You gotta say it.  One more time, baby; tell me what you want so I can give it to you.”

 

Dean licked his lips, puffy and red from kisses.  He took Sam’s face in his hands and brought him down for a kiss that Sam felt down to his soul.  “I’m ready.  I want this, Sammy.  I want your body inside my body…the way your heart is in my heart.”  Sam teared up and as he sniffed a little Dean added, “Now get your dick in me before I turn into a complete sap.”  

 

Sam huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes.  “Such a romantic.”  He planted another kiss on Dean’s smirking lips as he added a third finger.  Dean stiffened for just a second before his body relaxed and Sam worked his fingers in and out, stretching and scissoring until he was satisfied that his brother was open enough.

 

Dean was left with an aching emptiness when Sam pulled his fingers free and went to his jeans, getting a condom out of his wallet.  He rolled it on as Dean watched hungrily, then knelt between Dean’s spread legs and poured more lube into his hand to slick his cock.  Dean opened his legs wider, leaving himself exposed and vulnerable to Sam, but when Sam looked into his eyes he saw no shame, only love and trust.   

 

Sam lined himself up with Dean’s opening and leaned down to kiss Dean as he slowly pushed forward.  It was a tight fit and Sam had to fight to maintain control, but eventually with small gentle pushes forward, Sam was fully surrounded by Dean’s heat.  He stopped and watched his brother’s face as Dean took deep breaths, allowing his body to accept Sam’s large cock.  

 

After a few moments, the burn eased.  Dean put his hands on Sam’s hips and shifted his own to take Sam deeper as he said, “Move.”

 

Sam had been barely holding out and with the okay from Dean, he pulled back until only the head of his cock stretched Dean’s rim, then thrust forward, slow and deep, both men groaning at the sweet stretch and friction.  Several more slow thrusts and an adjustment of Sam’s angle had Dean writhing and begging beneath him.  The sight of this gorgeous man completely lost to his passion for Sam, stretched around his cock, fair skin flushed and shimmering with sweat pushed Sam precariously close to the edge.  

 

“God, Dean, want to…but, fuck you’re so _tight_.  Not…gonna last.”

 

“Me too.  It’s okay.”  Dean wrapped his hand around his bloody-heavy cock, knowing his own orgasm wouldn’t hold off as long he wanted either.  “Let go.  Do it, Sammy.”  

 

A moan pushed from deep in Sam’s throat as he began to thrust faster, fucking into Dean hard enough to push his body up the bed.  Dean stroked himself faster, his squeeze around the head fell in time with a forceful thrust right into his prostate and he knew he was about to come.  Just one more push from Sam into that spot and Dean was shooting hot and wet up his own chest, calling Sam’s name.  

 

Sam felt Dean’s hole tighten around him as his brother climaxed and he felt his own explosion start in his spine and spread.  His hips thrust erratically, Dean’s name pushed from his lips and he plunged deep into Dean as he came.

 

He collapsed onto the firm body beneath him and they held each other as their breathing slowed.  Sam pulled back, slowly freeing his cock from Dean’s body as Dean tried not to wince.  He removed the condom, tied it off and tossed it into the trash.  When he realized they were both sticky with sweat and Dean’s come, he grabbed his shirt from the floor and wiped the worst of the mess away.

 

As Sam dropped the shirt to the floor, Dean grabbed him and pulled him back down to the bed.  Sam nestled into Dean, resting his head on his chest, tucking under his chin.  Dean carded his hand through Sam’s hair and Sam stretched up for one last kiss before snuggling back into his spot and wrapping one long arm around Dean’s waist.

 

“So when do we leave?” Sam asked.

 

Dean smiled as he hugged Sam tighter.  “January.”

 

 

 

 

[ Epilogue ](http://deansdirtybb.livejournal.com/19383.html)


	13. Faith, Love, and Sin - Epilogue

** Epilogue **

Waiting to move until January allowed Sam to finish the current semester at the farmhouse and gave Dean a chance to say his goodbyes to his students.  Dean knew it would be hard for the students, so many of whom already had issues with abandonment and self-esteem, so he wanted to give them every chance possible for closure.

 

When Dean had given Pastor Jim his official notice of resignation from the school, along with explaining his plans to move Sam close to a prestigious law school and Dean’s new position at the local high school, the older man had smiled with tears in his eyes.  “Congratulations; that school will be lucky to have you.  Proud of you, son.”  Dean smiled back through his own tears and reached out to hug the pastor.

 

“You know you’re always welcome, Jim.  In fact, I expect a visit as soon as Sam and I are settled in.”

 

“Of course.”

*        *        *        *        *

The day Sam and Dean left the farmhouse it was snowing, big fluffy flakes drifting down to nestle in the trees as Dean shut the door on the U-Haul.  It would be the second time in a week Dean had made the nearly 8 hour drive; over the weekend, he’d dropped the Impala at their new house, locking it safely in the garage because Sam insisted on making the drive together in the truck.  Dean grinned to himself; he couldn’t say he was opposed to driving to their new life side by side.

 

They said their goodbyes, Dean giving Pastor Jim one last, tight hug.  Sam surprised both older men when he lunged forward and gave the pastor a hug of his own.  Pastor Jim smiled at Dean over Sam’s shoulder as he hugged the boy back.  “You take care, Samuel.  We’ll always be here for you if you ever need.”  Sam nodded a thank you through tears before quietly climbing into the passenger seat of the truck.

*        *        *        *        *

It only took them a few hours to unload the truck when they arrived.  After, of course, Dean checked to make sure his baby was still safe in the garage.  Since they didn’t own much, unpacking and setting up the house took less than a week, and Dean spent most of that time in the second bedroom.  He built shelves along all the walls and he spent hours carefully organizing and placing his beloved books on them.

 

They bought a full-size bed and set it up in the room even though Dean would be spending his nights curled up with Sam in the king-size bed they’d placed in the master bedroom.  Using Campbell as Sam’s last name meant they could live as a couple to the eyes of everyone around them, but they still needed the cover of each having separate rooms for visits from Pastor Jim and anyone else who knew them as brothers.

 

True to his word, Pastor Jim came to spend the weekend with them within a month of the move, and both young men were happy to see him.  It was the first time Dean had really been away from the man who had raised him, and it settled something within him to have Jim put his stamp of approval on his new life.

 

More surprising than Jim’s visit, was John Winchester showing up on their doorstep.  Dean had restarted a tentative relationship with his father after he helped make it possible for Dean to be with Sam at rehab.  It was still somewhat strained – most likely it always would be – but Dean could see John’s good intentions and appreciated how the man had respected his and Sam’s wishes for space and time.  

 

Sam still could not really view John as anything more than a biological parent, but he’d let go of some of his anger.  It couldn’t exactly be called forgiveness, and Sam still rarely talked to the man, but the younger Winchester would do nothing to stand in the way of Dean finding peace.  Even when that peace included some kind of relationship with the father that had abandoned them both on some level.

 

John knocked on their door, saying he’d been in the state for a hunt and asking if he could stay.  He was more than willing to leave, spend the night in a motel if they wanted, but it was clear John missed his sons and was trying, in his own way, to have a connection with them.  He spent one night in “Dean’s room” and Sam cooked them a dinner of spaghetti and meatballs.  When John left the next morning, he didn’t sneak out before sunrise as he might have done in the past; he made them all breakfast and said a proper goodbye, getting a hug from Dean and a firm handshake from Sam.

*        *        *        *        *

Four months after settling in was Sam’s 18th birthday.  Dean pulled the vegetable lasagna, Sam’s favorite, from the oven and set it on the counter to cool.  Next to it was a chocolate layer cake, and the table was set complete with flowers and candles.  On Sam’s plate rested the envelope from Northwestern University.  Dean was fairly certain he knew that the letter was good news, but he still couldn’t completely calm the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach as he lit the candles.

 

Sam burst through the door minutes later, dropped his backpack and stripped out of his jacket as he called out, “Dean?  I’m home; you won’t believe what happened at practice today.”  Sam had joined the track and field team, along with a few other extra curriculars to beef up his application to the pre-law program and for scholarships.  “Coach Spencer had us running laps an…” Sam trailed off as he came around the corner to find Dean standing between the cake on the counter and the candle-lit table.  “What’s all this?”

 

Dean smiled as he walked up to Sam, “Happy Birthday, Sammy.”  Dean drew Sam into a kiss, and he could feel Sam’s lips curl into a smile against his.  When he pulled back he was met with sparkling hazel eyes and deep dimples.  

 

“All this for me?”

 

“It’s your 18th birthday, that’s a big deal.”  Dean pressed another kiss to Sam’s mouth.  “And, there’ll be more _presents_ later.”  His gravel-toned emphasis of the word raised goosebumps on Sam’s skin and sent his blood coursing south.  Sam wrapped his arms around Dean, nipped at his full lips and then devoured them in a hungry kiss.  When they broke from the kiss they were both breathless and took a moment to steady themselves before moving to sit at the table.

 

Dean brought the lasagna over while keeping one eye on Sam as he sat down to discover the envelope on his plate.  Sam’s hands froze in his lap and he looked up to find Dean watching him.  “It came yesterday,” Dean said, “but you were studying for that big calculus test, so I put it away.  I thought tonight was a good occasion to open it.”

 

Sam’s trembling hands lifted the envelope from the plate and held it gingerly in front of his face.  “What if…?”

 

Dean took one of Sam’s hands in his and kissed the knuckles.  “Sammy, there’s no way that’s not good news.  Open it.”

 

Sam swallowed down the lump in his throat, took a deep breath and tore into the envelope.  His eyes skimmed the page, hitting on the words “Congratulations,” “pre-law” and “scholarship.”  “I don’t believe it,” he mumbled.

 

“What?”  Dean asked, his own nervousness now thinly veiled as he waited to hear the contents of the letter.

 

“I got in,” Sam answered with a smile.

 

Dean grinned.  “I knew you would,” he said, leaning over to kiss Sam.

 

Sam’s smile widened.  “Dean, they are offering me a scholarship.  A full ride.”

 

It was what they had hoped for, what Sam had worked so hard to get.  Sam stood from his chair and walked around the table.  He sat in Dean’s lap and wrapped his arms around his Dean’s shoulders.  “Thank you.”

 

“For what?” Dean asked.

 

“Believing in me.  Standing by me.  I could never have done this without you, Dean.  When everyone else wrote me off as just another bad kid, you never gave up on me.”

 

A soft smile spread across Dean’s full lips.  He laced his fingers together with Sam’s and their matching rings clicked together.  “I could never give you up, Sammy.”

  
 

**Author's Note:**

>  **Author’s Notes** :  
> This whole thing started as an idea for a PWP to tease my major priest kink. I wanted priest!Dean, and my brain just kept creating more and more backstory…until it became clear what I had was much more than a simple PWP. Then the SPN/J2 BigBang sign-ups went up and I figured what the hell? Also, I’m not kidding about the blasphemy warning people – I may have finally gone too far with this one.  
> I owe much more than meager thanks to everyone who helped with this story. katstark is so much more than a beta and I don’t know how I ever wrote anything without our hours of crazy FB chats – you are amazing, Beautiful, and I’m so grateful to have you for a beta and a friend.  
> sleepypercy I would not have ever gotten this finished without you either, sweetheart; thank you for your endless patience with my zillions of questions and moments of doubt; our friendship has been a bright spot of reassurance and inspiration (even if that inspiration sometimes meant distracting me from *this* story).  
> alexisjane – it has been a joy to message with you and thank you so very much for the final once-over that has given me courage in posting. If you make the “I <3 blasphemy” tees, I’ll be the first to order :D  
> And of course, thanks to wendy for hosting and organizing this ginormous event – many hugs to you sugar!


End file.
